


Overwatch - The Book of Moons

by Papallion



Series: Overwatch Moonverse (name temporary) [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Asexual Character, Blind Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison, Body Horror, Dad Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison, Eye Trauma, Fantasy Violence, Gay Male Character, Genji Shimada is a Little Shit, Headcanon, Original Character Moon Echo, Original Character Vermilion Lau, Post-Recall, Team as Family, dad Jesse McCree
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-03-23 18:38:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 64,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13793757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Papallion/pseuds/Papallion
Summary: While using a research lab in Barcelona, Winston, Lena and Jack Morrison meet a young intruder with a surprising ability they realize cannot fall into the wrong hands.No longer updated, the story is being reworked into Wraiths.





	1. Home Invasion

**Author's Note:**

> The year is 2080, and Overwatch has been working in silence for two years. Wiston leads the team from the office, but Morrison in the field.  
> I'm going with a few head cannons here.  
> Jack Morrison is mostly blind without his visor.  
> Hanzo has prosthetic feet, he and Jesse are coming out of a bad spat and making up, don't expect much relationship from them.  
> Feel free to correct me, beta read me, follow my Tumblr  
> http://papallion.tumblr.com/  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta readers and comments welcome, let me know if I can tag anything!

Please note this work will no longer be updated. Instead I am restructuring the work into Overwatch: Wraiths.  
The reason for this? After some introspection I realized derailed myself trying to make changes to a work in progress. The more changes I made the more I strayed from my original story, so I'm restarting.   
Plot points will be reintroduced, characters reworked, and hopefully I won't leave my outline again. Sorry for the mess!  
Papallion

August 04, 2080, Early Sunday Afternoon

Winston continued to look into his microscope, and Lena continued to talk.  “And then, get this,” she was saying, “she just flies into the air on a broomstick!”  Winston nodded and made a noise, then took a few notes. “And there is a great big song about flying and it’s really tops!”

“Tops?” Winston asked and looked over, the strange slang catching his attention.

Lena laughed and winked.  “Just making sure you were listening, love!”

“Always, Lena.”  He returned to his microscope.  “I’m glad you and Emily had fun.  I love theatre.” Lena just knew he used the fancy spelling when he said theatre.  “How long is it running?”

“Until at least December.  What are you studying there?” she asked, honestly wanting an answer.

“It’s a new bacterium we pulled from a deep sea volcanic vent.  I’m hoping we might learn a few things from its cell walls, it’s an amazing survivor.”  He refocused his lenses. “Care to see?”

“Sure!” Lena said and took a peek.  “Well, it’s a neat shade of purple, it is.”  She never had any clue what she was looking at, but Winston’s love of science was so vibrant she couldn’t help but love it, too.

“That’s the beet dye I used to stain it, oh, hello.”  Lena looked up and she and Winston looked at the man who rippled into existence.  He seemed startled they could see them, grabbed a book from the table and took off.  His long white and black hair rippled behind him as he dashed out the door.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Lena snapped and took off after him.  Each time she turned a corner it felt like she was just catching his hair as it flicked through a door, and she poured on the speed.  “There you are!” The alarms had kicked in and security doors were slamming shut and he was out of places to run.

The figure muttered as he skid to a halt, trapped in a fresh dead end, and he turned.  His hair wasn’t just white, she realized, but had several tiny black braids flickering through it.  He wore slim black clothes with silver claws and white trim, and his jacket sleeves ended in flared cuffs above his elbows.  Some sort of silver pistols clung to the outside of black armbands, round goggles covered his eyes, and his features were hidden by his faceplate.  He was barely taller than Lena herself.

“Drop the book, darling, and no one gets hurt!”  The man slowly raised his hands and Lena nodded at him.  He took a few steps sideways, and she tilted her head at him.  “And what are you up to?”

“Nothing much,” he said quietly with a soft accent, and suddenly he was behind her.  Lena had the awful feeling of being shoved, much like being on a spinning carnival ride for a few moments.  She snatched at him but he was off again.

“Winston!  Teleporter!” she shouted, and took off again.  When had he planted a transmitter? She didn’t see a teleport pad or device in the hall on her way in.  Luckily only herself, Winston and Morrison were at the old Barcelona Watchpoint as Winston studied some samples.  She spotted Winston down the hall, taking broad swipes at the intruder, but the white haired man was nimble and fast.

He leapt over Winston and stood briefly on his arm, and pulled two small handguns.  As he took aim Winston stepped back, knocking him down, and the teleporter took off again down a hall.  Lena dashed in front of him, getting a feel for his speed, and the intruder skid to a halt and turned around.

Winston swung out, and his backhand hit the stranger on his way by, slamming him against the wall and cracking his chest plate.  Winston gripped him and slammed him against the wall again, and he swatted a gun from his hand. It retreated to his cuff, and Winston pressed him against the wall.

“Let go!”  Winston stared at him carefully.  He tried to teleport, but Winston held firm.  “Let me go!”

“Not much of a thief, is he?” Lena chirped as she plucked the book from his hands.  His pistol slid down and into his hand and he started shooting blind. The electric bolt bounced off the floor and hit Lena, and Winston slammed him against the wall twice.  His head bounced and his face went slack for a few moments, and he grimaced. Winston wrenched the guns away and then his chest piece, and flung him to the floor.

He sprawled there, coughing, and glared up at him.  Winston sighed down at him. “If you’re quite finished,” he started, and the teleporter took off again.  “Lena, be a dear?”

“On it, love!”  As Lena rounded the corner there was a wet thud and she spotted Jack Morrison down the hall.  He had taken one look at the teleporter and quickly brought him down with a single punch. The teleporter fell, curled up on himself, and he was done.  “Winston, quick, Jack might have broken him!”

“And what’s going on here?” Morrison asked as he planted his foot on the man’s side.  He bent down and pulled his mask away, and the young figure spat pink foam. He groaned and stayed put this time and Morrison was startled just how young he looked.  
  



	2. A Quick Interrogation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morrison gets a short interrogation before extraction and learns there's more to his prisoner.

August 04, 2080, Early Sunday Afternoon

The pink foam on his lips was from him biting his cheek and splitting his lip when Morrison hit him.  When Winston slammed him against the wall two ribs had broken away from the cartilage between them, and while painful, it wasn’t fatal.  His wrists were now handcuffed behind him, his ankles were handcuffed to the legs of his chair and he was breathing shallowly and sitting quietly.

It had taken Winston a few minute to tidy the thief up.  The thief sat silently as Winston had him rince his mouth, but he could feel the small rogue tremble slightly as he used a sonic device to put his ribs on the mend and declare him fit for gentle interrogation, Jack.  Gentle. Jack Morrison opened the door and let himself in as Winston let himself out. They had almost half an hour before extraction and returning to the Rock, and he wanted to get some questions in.

He walked over and against the man’s protests, pulled off his goggles.  “Oh, interesting, heterochromia iridum, mismatched eyes. Rare.” His left eye was gold and his right green, and Morrison wondered if they were real, contact lenses or bionic.  He was startled to see how young the teen was up close, possibly seventeen or even sixteen, still round and soft and nonthreatening looking. He glared as best he could, reminding Morrison of an angry chipmunk.

“So, what do we have here?” he asked as he pulled open a file with two pages in it.  Morrison sat down and made a show of reading the pages. The young man glared up at him, struggling to breathe.  “Well, Winston’s given me the go ahead to interrogate you, so let’s get this started. What’s your game, punk?” The young man remained quiet, and Morrison turned the pages over.  “Got a name, at least?” The teen remained quiet, and Morrison sighed at him. “How old are you? Where’s your teleport tech?” He looked down to his lap again. “Looks like we’re doing this the hard way.”

As he stood the teen flinched, pulling away as best he could, and Morrison mused on this for a bit.  “Or we can do it the easy way. Your choice. You got a name?” The man continued to flinch each time Morrison moved.  “Those ribs look pretty painful. I might have to examine them.” Morrison put a hand on the table near him and reached over and gripped his chin.  “How old are you?” 

“I don’t have to answer to you!” he snapped, a Chinese accent in his voice.  Morrison put his hand over the left side of the teen’s chest and the he flinched again, then glared at him.  “He was right. You don’t have the guts.”

“Who?”  When the man didn’t answer Morrison brought his hand down gently on his side.  “Who.” The teen screamed out, and Morrison pulled his hand away quickly. He hadn’t pressed hard, and while he felt bad for hurting him, he needed answers.  “Who.”

“Reaper,” he hissed, trying to pull away.  “Hound.” It didn’t matter if it were Hound himself or his criminal organization, failure was not looked upon happily.  As far as Morrison knew Hound was on Doomfist’s short list of people to shove off of a building.

“Right, then, we have two options.  You tell me everything and I lock you away,” he started, and the teen scoffed.  “Or I let you go and Hound knows you failed your initiation test.” Morrison leaned forward.  “And by extension, Doomfist. You know how he hates failures.” The kid pulled back, breathing funny, and suddenly pulled his newly freed hands up, cuff dangling from his right wrist.

‘How’d he slip the cuffs?’ Morrison thought as the kid’s hands slammed into his face and gripped his visor.  Morrison easily hauled his hands away, grimacing as the visor flickered. He gripped the kid’s wrists and shoved him, giving him a shake.  The teen was now spent, and he sat back. “OK, thrown to Hound it is.” 

“No, stop!” he snapped and Morrison pushed him back in the chair.  “You can’t!”

“I need release forms, Tracer.  Let’s cut him loose. Strap a chute to him and drop him in Venice.”

The kid’s face was fearful and he struggled under Morrison’s hands.  “You can’t!” he protested, and Morrison twisted his arms behind his back and slapped the cuffs back on a little rougher than was necessary.  He then adjusted his visor back into place.

“Then give me something to work with.  What’s your name.” It was a demand, not a question.  “Your. NAME. What do I call you when I shove you out of the helicopter?”

“Moon Echo.  They call me Moon Echo,” he said quietly as Morrison loomed over him.  It wasn’t hard, since Morrison had most a foot on the tiny thing. He was barely taller than Lena.

“And your age.”  THe moment he asked, Morrison pegged the teen to be sixteen at the oldest.

“I don’t know.  Seventeen?” he guessed, and Morrison continued to glare.  “It’s not like we celebrate birthdays there, OK? I think I’m seventeen!”  Jack nodded and returned to the observation room and fetched another pair of cuffs with long chains.

Winston had been watching through the glass.  “How did you know that would work? Threatening to release him?” he asked.  His research was packed and ready to go.

“Not much else it could be but a Hound initiation run.  And he flinched. A lot. He’s used to being punished.” Morrison shook his head, then pulled his visor off, blinked heavily, and pulled it back on.  “Punk must had pulled a sensor loose. Hound believes that weakness should be exploited, then punished, then removed. Cutting him loose is a death sentence and he knows it.”

“So what are we going to do with him?  A quick look showed me his tech wasn’t entirely in his chest plate.  I’m not sure how he teleports, but I’ve got an idea.” Winston tugged on his chin.  “There’s also something about his hands. I’ll need his gloves. Something in how he slipped the cuffs.”  Morrison nodded at Winston. He let Moon stew for a few minutes as he reviewed the surveillance tapes.

Moon had flickered once in the hall as he entered the lab, been spotted, and ran.  His movements were quick and precise, possibly following his path on the way in. He expertly ducked Winston for twenty seconds, no small feat.

Winston couldn’t help but grimace as he watched himself slam Moon into the wall.  “I didn’t realize how flimsy his armor was, or how young he is. I would have been gentler.”

“He’s a dangerous intruder, Winston.  You did fine.” Jack clapped Winston’s shoulder and returned to the interrogation room.  Moon glared at him and lowered his eyes. Jack wrapped the chains around his elbows and latched them, locking him down further.  He then tapped the top of Moon’s left hand and undid the cuff on his wrist.

“OK, Moonboy, gloves.”  Moon Echo paled and tried to shrink away from him, fear and embarrassment on his face.

“Please don’t.”  His voice was small and full of fear, and Morrison ignored him and lifted Moon’s left hand.  “No, stop!” Morrison wrestled with him and tried to pull the glove off, but there was a solid metal ring around his wrist.  “Stop it, you’ll break it!” Morrison was concerned how frail Moon felt under his hands, how little he could resist his grip.

“Then take them off.”  When Moon paused, Morrison continued to pry at them.  Moon cried out when Morrison got his fingers under the round cuff.

“OK, OK, fine, just, OK.  OK. I, it’s a two-handed job, OK?”  Moon pulled his hand away tried to reach it with his right, and Morrison let his left elbow go.  Moon pulled his wrists together and connected the circular design on the center of the bands and rotated.  The wristband of the gloves unsealed and loosened, and the bands relaxed. Morrison took Moon’s hand and hauled his glove off, then stared at what was left of the kid’s hand.  “Don’t,” he said softly. “Don’t stare at me.”

Moon’s fingers were mostly gone, and his hands and wrists were covered with chemical burns.  He had most of his left thumb, but almost none of his fingers save a little bit of pinky. There was barely enough to make a cup for his prosthetic fingers.  Morrison locked his elbow again then pulled the other glove off, seeing more of the same, and his lips twitched under his face plate. Moon looked away, shame and embarrassment on his face.  He locked Moon’s left wrist down and left the room. Morrison gave the gloves to Winston, then rooted in a drawer. “Got a scarf or anything?”

“Here, use this.”  Morrison found a random bandana, most likely Jesse’s, as Lena handed him a peach handkerchief with a lace trim.  Morrison returned, covered what remained of Moon’s hands, and left. “Oh, that poor little duck!”

Winston was turning the gloves over in his hands.  “There’s a lot of advanced cybernetic technology in here.  It’s how he got out of the first cuffs, he just slid his gloves off.  Very daring.”

“So what do we do with him?” Lena asked.  “Turn him over?”

“Not yet, we can still get information from him.  I want to know how he teleports, Winston, sooner, rather than later.”  Winston nodded at Morrison. Their communicators chimed, and Morrison nodded.  “He’s early, let’s go.”

Morrison returned to the room and started to uncuff Moon, tying the bandana and the handkerchief as best he could to keep them from slipping.  “Up, we’re leaving.” He had to drag Moon to stand up, and finally slung him over his shoulder.

“Hey, down!  Put me down!” Moon snapped and struggled.  Morrison rolled him to the ground, and Moon slumped to the floor, so Morrison shook his head and scooped him up again.  “Where are you taking me? Put me down!” Morrison carted him in a fireman’s carry to the elevator, and Winston pressed the button.  

Morrison thought it was a strange elevator ride, but it wasn’t his weirdest.  It reminded him of a stupid joke one told at a sports bar after one too many shots.  So an extremely intelligent gorilla, a lesbian with chronal disassociation, and a grizzled soldier with a terrorist slung over his shoulders ride to the roof in an elevator with a buzzing light and a music system that played nothing but the first twenty seconds of The Sound of Music’s opening theme on repeat.  They get in a hovership flown by a cowboy and fly to Gibraltar.

There is no punchline.

Morrison didn’t care for the ride, since his long legs cramped up.  Winston took up most of the passenger seating so Morrison sat in the cargo with Moon on the almost hour long ride.  Morrison had held him down while Lena threaded his ankle chain through the seat, and Moon sulked until, somehow, he managed to sleep, exhausted from his ordeal.  Morrison wondered just how old, or young, he really was, one leg propped up on the bench by the teen. Moon fell against his knee, and Morrison kept him propped up.  He looked so tired and young.

Morrison used his visor to go over the security tapes and readings, spotting simple mistakes the kid kept making.  Why send in such a young and inexperienced kid? “Almost there, gents!” Lena called from the cockpit. Morrison reached over and shook Moon awake.

“We’re landing.”  Moon jumped, slid down, then pulled himself back up as Morrison undid his ankles.  “Welcome to your new home for the time being,” Morrison said as he gripped Moon’s arm.  “Watchpoint: Gibraltar.” Moon stood, partially stunned by the bright sunlight and balmy weather, and Morrison tugged him along.  “Come on, kid, let’s get you processed.”

Moon tugged back, then relaxed. “Fine.”  Morrison took him by the arm and started to haul him along, and Moon suddenly went limp.  Morrison sighed and turned around, and with a jerk on his arm Moon was gone. 

“Damn it all, the kid just doesn’t know when to give it up,” he muttered.  “Lena, he’s gone.”

“On it, boss!” Lena chirped with a salute and took off quickly.  She dashed in a circle, widening her arc until she spotted the flicker of his hair near the edge.  The white reflected sunlight beautifully, shimmering like a mirage. “There you are!” She skid to a halt near Moon, but he didn’t look to her.

“Is this an island or something?” he finally asked quietly, and she grinned and nodded.  “Oh.” With that he crouched down, squatting with his chin on his knees. “Oh.” His voice was quiet and scared.

“Come on, love, let’s get you inside.”  Lena gently took his shoulders, but Moon didn’t move.  She felt she could have carried him, but instead she sat by him.  “It’s a bit much, isn’t it?” Moon nodded shallowly at her. “You just want to look at it for a while?  The ocean?”

“There’s nowhere to go.”  Lena nodded at him and clicked her communicator.

“I’m certain the commander won’t mind if we just sit and catch our breath until Jesse gets here, right?”  She sat with him quietly, and finally Jesse McCree walked up. He had understood her message and gave her a few minutes, letting the teen calm down.  

“This him?” he asked, and Lena nodded.  “C’mon, kid, bossman wants you processed before nightfall and I got dinner to make.”  Jesse clipped a chain to Moon’s handcuffs and latched it to his right arm, then gently got him standing and started leading him away.  “There’s a man.”

Moon was short and his ankles were cuffed so Jesse had to walk slower than his six foot frame liked.  If Jesse were so inclined, he could easily rest his chin on the top of Moon’s head like he did Lena’s from time to time.  He resisted, though, and led him to the main entrance. 


	3. Shipping, Processing and Handling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moon Echo gets processed into the system. Morrison has doubts about his actions.

August 04, 2080, Late Sunday Afternoon

“Got’em, boss, just gonna take him to processing, now.”  Morrison nodded and opened the door, and Jesse gave a gentle tug.  Moon followed, head down, and Morrison took the chain from Jessie. 

“I’ve got him.”  Jesse nodded and walked to the kitchen as Morrison led Moon into the processing room.  The door shut and sealed itself behind them. “First thing first, kid, shower. You reek.  Clothes go here.” He gestured to a storage bin. It smelled like Moon hadn’t had a proper bath in a while.

“I don’t want to,” he whined softly.

“I’m going to uncuff you now.  No windows, one door. Locked form the outside.  Unless you can teleport through solid objects, which I doubt, it’s just us.”  Morrison knelt down to get his ankles, then he undid Moon’s wrists. He expected Moon to resist, but he just sighed and tucked the remains of his hands in his armpits.

“Fine.  Whatever.  Keep your hands to yourself,” Moon muttered, and pulled his jacket off.  He folded it carefully and put it in the storage tub, then his boots. Morrison was impressed with what dexterity Moon’s diminished hands had.  The teen stipped his shirt off and Jack inwardly winced at him. Moon was obviously underweight, and had obviously been badly abused. Under the bruise Winston had given him was a series of lashes and poorly healed scars that went from his shoulders and upper arms to his thighs.  

He had a pair of myoelectric sensors on his clavicle and another near each armpit, matching the ones on the bottom of his wrists.  Morrison was interested in the port on his back, between possibly his third and fourth vertebrae, but he didn’t touch or ask about it.  He wasn’t wearing socks or underwear, and Jack could count his ribs and vertebrae. “Satisfied?” he asked, hands over his genitals.

“Hair ties, too.”  Moon sighed, turned around, and started plucking the twenty some odd leather ties from his tiny, waist length braids.  “And the ponytail tie.” Moon pulled the last hair band out, then Morrison gave him a quick once over and pointed. “Get in the shower.”  He hit the FROST button, obscuring Moon from the chest down, and he quickly showered and washed his hair. On most people it would only obscure their waist, but Moon’s ribs were easily hidden.  Morrison handed him a towel, and once Moon was ready, the briefs.

“Does it have to be briefs?”  Morrison nodded and Moon pulled them on.  They sagged a little in the back, and Morrison handed over the sleep pants, t-shirt and house slippers.  Everything hung off of him and he sighed. “I’m cold.”

“You’re too skinny.  We’ll get a hot meal in you in a few minutes.”  Morrison opened his clipboard and pulled out a fingerprint kit.  “Dry your hands please.” Moon let him take his palm prints, rolling his stumps to catch the ends.  He scratched out and initialed the squares for his fingerprints, and took his photo. “Now, we’re going to get you a lookover with Dr. Ziegler and then some supper.  Here.”

Moon sighed as Morrison held out the cuffs.  He seemed to be weighing his options, and finally held out his hands.  Morrison cuffed his wrists behind him and then his ankles and Moon sunk to the ground.  “This again? Up you go.”

Moon groaned in agitation and stood back up.  “I’ll walk.” He was surly in the way only a teen could be, and Morrison chained his cuffs to his left arm.  

“Athena?  The door, please.”  The door slid open and they started walking, and Moon slowly ground to a halt.  Morrison turned, put his shoulder to Moon’s waist, and hauled him up despite his protests.  “We got a schedule, kid.” Moon struggled a little, then stopped, and Morrison got him to the medical wing with no issue.  He put him down and Angela Ziegler sighed at him. “Here.”

“Jack!” she snapped at him.  “That is no way to treat a patient!”

“I’m not a patient,” Moon said flatly.  “I’m processed.”

“Well, uncuff him and let me get a look at him.  On the scale, please.” Moon let himself be weighed and measured, then Morrison looped his ankle chain around a brace of the examination table, and Dr. Ziegler gave Moon a once over.  He was barely one hundred and ten pounds, and Dr. Ziegler shook her head. “Winston said your ribs were hurt?”

Moon sniffed at her.  “And my jaw. Jack here hit me.”  Dr. Ziegler gave Morrison a deadly glare and he crossed his arms.  “My ribs hurt. I’m hungry. My hair’s still wet and I’m cold.” Moon melted a little, and Dr. Ziegler grabbed a blanket from a closet before she shined a light in his eyes.

“Where did you get these from?” she asked as she changed tools.  “They’re not focusing or tracking right, I’ll have Winston look at them in the morning.  Will you be OK with these for a few more nights?” So he did have bionic eyes.

Moon shrugged.  “Been using them for a few years now, I’m used to them.”

“Shoddy work, we’ll get you better ones.  Shirt please, I want to see your ribs.” Moon pulled his shirt off and Dr. Ziegler listened to him breathe.  “I’m worried about that. But let me see your hands.” Moon reluctantly held them out, and she flipped them over in her hands.  She was not pleased. “Winston got your ribs on the mend, I see.” 

“I’ve had worse.”  She pulled back a little.  “I know how to sleep and breathe and all that.”  

“Do your deep breath, please.”  Moon sighed, then took a breath.  “Good, thank you. Let me see that port.”  Moon sat still as she touched the edges, figuring out how to open it.  The iris slid open and she fetched a small brush to sweep the fuzz out.  “Looks like the usual port settings, I’d like to get some more in depth readings later, but you need some supper.”  For now she did just a basic health scan, noting the common commercial software. The scan only confirmed what she expected, exhaustion and the need for a good meal.

“What’s the verdict, Doctor?” Morrison asked, and she took a few notes.  Moon sat quietly, slouched, apparently used to the ordeal.

“Well, you’re dehydrated, horribly underweight, your eyes are in poor shape and you need rest.  He’s ready for supper, Jack. Make sure you drink this, I’m worried.” She put a bottle of coconut water in front of him, and he looked at it.  “Hang on a second.” She went through her drawers, muttering until she found something. “Here, these should do.” Dr. Ziegler held out some novelty tennis socks Lena had bought her some time ago and some lotion, and she put a squirt on his hands.  “I can do a basic skin graft once you’re ready, and I might be able to do something for the pain.”

He quickly lotioned his hands and pulled the socks on with his teeth in a practiced motion.  “They don’t hurt,” he muttered, and almost leapt off the table when she put a gentle hand to the side of his face.

“Don’t worry, Moon, I’ll take care of you.”  He blushed and looked down, and she opened the coconut water and put it in his hands.  He took a long drink and pressed the sports lid down, and she looked to Morrison. “He needs rest, now, and some supper.  In the morning Winston and I will check his eyes, and get a complete reading on his dataport.”

“C’mon, kid, we got you a room.”  Moon followed passively, clutching his water bottle, and Morrison was grateful the others kept the hall clear.  Moon’s cell had an airlock and a double door, and only one could be opened at a time. Morrison uncuffed him and locked him in.  “Dinner will be here in about twenty minutes.” Moon lay down and instantly fell to sleep, and Morrison watched him through the window for a few moments to make sure he was still breathing.


	4. No One Ever Wants to Get Naked In Front of a Monkey and a Cowboy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moon almost gets an MRI and Morrison gets more information.

August 04, 2080, Sunday Night, Supper Time

His nap was short yet restful, oddly enough.  “Rise and shine, love, dinner’s here!” Lena cheered as she opened the inside door.  Moon’s holding cell was a simple room with a built in shelf for a bed, a toilet with a sink in the cistern and a simple table.  A hairbrush and basic toiletries sat on a shelf above the table. “Come on, nice and hot! Eat up!” Lena was concerned he knew how best to lay with busted ribs.

“How?” he snapped, and Lena put the plate on the table.

“Don’t worry, ducky, Winston’s cleared your hands.  But you still don’t get your claws or your guns back.  We charged them up and everything! C’mon, need help?” Lena asked as she held them out.  The armbands were missing, but Moon knew they weren’t necessary.

“No.”  Moon slowly got up and pulled the socks off his hands, keeping them hidden as best he could.  He carefully held the cuff with his teeth and feed his hands in. He shoved his hands against his thighs to get them snug, then held the inside of his wrists together and rotated, locking the bands and activating them.  Moon rippled his fingers, rotated his wrists, and nodded. “Thank you,” he said softly. He made a gesture, palms towards him and pushing his hands away while opening his fingers, and his lips twitched.

“Yeah, he deactivated everything but basic hand use,” she said in a cheerful tone.  “Enjoy your supper, it’s Mexican night! Jesse made rose rice, beef soup and tamales!”

“What’s a tamale?” Moon muttered as Lena gestured to the plate.  He hissed something to himself and eyed Lena, then the food. “Why’s it all red?”

“It’s rose rice, Jesse’s specialty!  Come on, love, eat up! It’s only getting colder!”

 

\---

 

“Is he still eating?” Lena asked as she skid into the room.  “He was so upset when you took his hands away, Commander!” She glanced at the monitor, and Moon was dissecting his tamale, eating it piece by piece.

“Gee,” Jesse snapped around his cigarello, “I wonder why.  You shouldn’t have denied him his hands, Morrison! It’s against policy and it’s damn cruel!”

“He can’t be trusted with the multiple technologies in them.  McCree, no smoking inside!” Morrison snapped. The use of their last names told each other the other was upset.

“You gonna take it away from me?” he drawled, and held out his cigarillo in his left hand, his prosthetic hand.

“They were a security risk, but Winston fixed that,” Morrison explained patiently.  He didn’t blame Jesse for being upset. “Now extinguish it.” Jesse put it back in his mouth and Morrison snatched it away, ground it on the table and flicked it in the trash.  He ignored Jesse fishing it out and muttering he still had five minutes left on it. Morrison then pressed a button on his communicator. “Winston, anything on his teleporting yet?”

“Well, no.  The tech in his suit and gloves modified it, but I think the ability rests inside of him.”  Morrison hummed in thought. “Angela thinks his spine, here, here she is.”

“Jack?” Angel’s voice said over the line, “I think his spine has been replaced.  The scars are surgical, methodical, and his back just looks odd. I think the technology is inside of him, along with that dataport.”

“Who would do something like that?” Morrison mused.  “Ready the MRI.”

“I will not put him in an MRI!” Angela snapped.

Jack knew that MRIs were dangerous to many people with cybernetic ports and prosthetics.   “But he doesn’t know that. We need answers, and quickly, before M16, Hound or Talon finds him.”

 

\---

 

“I’m not happy with this idea.”  Moon was standing with his hands cuffed behind his back, staring at the MRI.  Dinner was now sitting heavy in his nervous gut. “This is not a good idea.”

“Oh, it won’t take long!” Winston said in an encouraging tone.  “Do you have any of the following?” Winston held out a page and Moon stared at it, stared at the chain leading his cuffed hands to Jess, then the paper, then to Winston.  “Right, I’ll just read it off for you. Pacemaker, pregnancy, claustrophobia, history of kidney problems, skin tattoos, neurostimulators like a TENS-unit, implanted drug infusion device, i.e., insulin pump, exposure of metal fragments to your eye, artificial heart valves, aneurysm clips, cochlear implants, metallic implants and prosthesis, vascular stent or stent graft, history as a metal worker, shrapnel or bullet wounds, dorsal column stimulators, allergy to iodine, or gadolinium, history of diabetes, or any other conditions you believe to be relevant?”

“Um, no?”  Winston adjusted his glasses at Moon’s delayed answer.

“This is very important, Moon.  Do you have a pacemaker?” Moon answered no to each item Winston listed again, and Winston sighed at him once he denied ‘metallic implants and prosthesis.’  “Prosthesis. Do you have any?” Moon shook his head again and Winston motioned to a gown on the table. “Just change into the gown and take a seat, it will be over soon.”

“I’m not happy with this idea,” Moon repeated.  “I am not getting naked in front of a monkey and a cowboy!”

“Gorilla,” Winston said darkly.  

“I don’t care!  I’m not getting naked!  You guys already took my normal clothes, what more do you want from me?” Moon demanded.

“These clothes, please, you’ll have the dressing gown.  Jesse, the cuffs?” Winston asked.

“Now kid,” Jesse said as he held up the key, “if I unlock these cuffs you gonna teleport away?”  Jesse shook the chain that connected Moon’s cuffs to his right wrist.

“YES.”  Jesse crossed his arms and stared at him, smiling at his honest answer.  “I’m not getting naked! If it can see through a robe, it can see through pants!”

Jesse unsnapped his cuff and gripped the chain.  “C’mon, kid, robe time.”

“No.”  Moon backed into the door and managed to press the button to open it.  “I’m going back to my cell!” he snapped as he started to walk away. Jesse gripped the chain and started to haul him back in.  “Let go! I’m not taking off my pants!”

“Kid, we all got things to do,” Jesse snapped, and Moon suddenly snapped a kick into Jesse’s neck.  Jesse let go, gasping for breath more out of reflex than pain, and Moon ducked down the hall. “Kid!”  Moon turned a corner and kept going. “I swear to god, was I ever this annoying?”

“I’m certain I’ve heard that you were,” Winston said as he picked up his datapad to put the halls on lockdown.  “Jack’s near him, he’ll pick him up.”

It wasn’t far to his cell, just down the hall and around the corner.  Moon groaned out in discomfort as his ribs ached, and he put his back to the door to his cell and slid down the wall.  He was there for several moments before Jack Morrison trod over and looked down at him. “Get up.” 

“No!” Moon groaned in agitation then in pain and curled up on himself as best he could with his hands behind his back.  “I’m just gonna get back into my cell.”

Morrison sighed down at him.  “No. You’re getting scanned.”  He hauled Moon up by his right side and dragged him back down the hall, mindful of his ribs.  At least he didn’t have to carry him this time. “McCree!” Jesse sighed and shook his head. “If you can’t deal with a sixteen year old boy it I’ll get someone else.”

“He wants me to get naked!” Moon snapped.  “My ribs hurt. I’m hungry.” He slouched, and if Morrison weren’t gripping his armpit would have melted into the ground.  “I’m tired.” Morrison hauled him back to his feet and into the MRI room. “I want to go back to my cell.” Moon resisted every step of the way.  “I don’t wanna get naked in front of a cowboy and a gorilla.”

Morrison sighed, wishing to nip Jesse McCree 2.0 in the bud.  “Winston, I want him scanned. Now.” Well, Genji had been McCree 2.0, so Moon could be 3.0.

“If I tell you how I teleport,” Moon mumbled, “can I keep my clothes on?”

“Too late.  Strip. You can keep your tighty whities.”  Morrison’s voice was firm.

“Oh, c’mon!  I’m not getting naked in front of a gorilla!” Moon wailed.  “It’s not a teleport, it’s a tesser, OK? I don’t know HOW I do it, but the tech in my gloves and suit make it easier.”

Morrison gave him a tug to keep him standing and Jesse held out the dressing gown.  “The tech is inside your body? So you’re saying you can teleport at any time?” Morrison knew this, he had seen him teleport, but he needed to control the conversation.

“Kinda?”  Moon looked over to Winston.  “Don’t me me strip in front of the gorilla.”

“He has a name.  It’s Winston. You know, boss,” Jesse said slowly, “the second you let go he’s bolting again.”

“Not if you keep a hold of him,” Winston said with a nod.  “He said tessers. He can’t do it if we keep him tethered. In theory.”  It took everything Winston had not to explain the difference between teleporting and tessering.

“Jesse, the cuffs.  I’ll hold him.”

“All right, but don’t say I never warned you.”  Jesse undid the cuffs and Moon brought his hands in front of him, adjusting his gloves as best he could with Morrison clinging to his upper arm.  Everyone stood quietly, waiting, and Moon was suddenly gone and Morrison fell towards the door. Jesse gave a loud laugh. “Told’ja.”

“Well, now, that’s an interesting development,” Winston mused as he took note.  

“Find him!” Morrison snapped, and there was a heavy thud in the hall.

“That’s for shooting me!” Lena snapped as she stood over a groaning teen.  She had tripped him, and then gripped his leg and started to haul him back down the hall.  “Keep better tabs on your prisoners!” Jesse sighed and helped him up.

Moon quietly stripped and Jesse looked away as he held a sheet in front of him.  Still, he could see the scars on his back and he grimaced. Moon was who Overwatch was made to protect, those who were too young to protect themselves.  Jesse held his hand out. “I’ll take good care of your hands, don’t you worry none.” He held his left arm out so Moon could balance himself onto the MRI table, and carefully pulled his hands off and handed them over.  He lay down and the table started to slide into the imaging tube.


	5. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moon gets scared into giving more information. Our heroes, everybody! Jesse and Genji go straight for the bribes.

As the shadow of the tube reached his eyes he struggled to sit up.  “My eyes are cybernetic! What’s going to happen to them?” he hissed suddenly.  “What about my hands? Will the connections be OK? She never told me what would happen to my connections.  This is a bad idea. I don’t want to do this!”

“She WHO?” Morrison asked as he leaned over Moon.  When Moon said nothing Morrison gestured for the table to move.  “Moira?” Moon nodded vigorously, and Morrison paused the table. “Talk to me, Moon.  Where did you get your enhancements?”

“I, I can’t, they’ll turn them off!” Moon gasped.  “They’ll send me back!” Moon struggled to remain calm.  “Don’t send me back.”

Morrison held up his hand so Winston could see it, twisting his wrist in a ‘power it up’ motion, and the MRI hummed to life.  “If you’re worried about them tracking you through your implants, the MRI will block any communications. I’m going to make you a deal,” Morrison said quietly as he leaned closer.  “We won’t take your hands, we won’t turn off your eyes, and we won’t send you back to Hound. But I need to know, where did you get your teleport abilities?” 

Moon was silent.  “I’ve got about an hour before I need to get you to an official holding cell.  After that, there’s no telling what’s going to happen to you. So talk to me, Moon.  Where did you get the teleport technology.”

“Moira,” he said quietly, “and Naomi.  They, they did something to me. The chair.  The tube. Don’t put me in the tube. I don’t wanna go in the tube.”

“What happened to your hands?  How did you get like this?”

“I, um, I screwed up.  I needed, they, he,” Moon said, panic in his voice, but he swallowed it.  “I was blind. I couldn’t follow orders. So they took me to the, to the lab, and he did that.”

“What lab?  Where?”

“They were making Amp.”  Jake kept himself from flinching.  Amp, a synthetic drug, was made from several caustic chemicals, and it was a highly toxic and dangerous process.  “They, and, and he,” Moon stuttered. “I screwed up. And he washed me.”

“It’s OK.  We’ll move the conversation along.  Were you born blind?”

“No, I was, so we were all, we were all,” he said, and Morrison looked over to Winston, who was still taking notes.  “They, um, Amp drops.” Morrison inhaled quietly. Pure, unfiltered Amp to the eyes would have the desired effect of blinding someone, and the chemical burns from submersion could warrant amputation of small fingers.

“And how did you get into Moira’s hands?”  Moon closed his eyes and turned his head. “Moon, how?”

“Someone broke in, as Jin was washing me.  Put me in the chemical shower.” Morrison listened, emotionless.  “Took all of us, left the crew. I think they’re dead. They never said, just that, that, you see, they took us away.”  Moon took a breath. “Talon. I think Talon gave us to Hound.”

“How many ended up with Hound?”

“Most of us, Wang Xiu Ying, and Li Qiang at least.”

“What happened to them?  Wang and Li?”

“They, they didn’t make it.  The teleport.” Leave it to Hound to use children as test subjects.  It wasn’t Moira’s way, though, which was odd. She had her ethics, few as they could be, and children were not good test subjects.  “I was the only one, um, survivor. I, um, don’t know entirely how it works.” Moon was shaking now and Morrison knew the interrogation was over for now.

“You did good, Moon.  Get some rest.” Moon stayed still for a while after the table pulled completely out of the tube, and Jesse had to help him stand up.  He didn’t have it in him to tell the kid the MRI was never activated, nor did Winston have any desire to do so.

 

\---

 

August 04, 2080, Sunday Evening

“Moon could have been from a few different places, Hanz thinks the Laus, though, in Héchuáng.  They made Amp, did human trafficking, were known for blinding their ‘employees.’ All six of their buildings were hit seven years ago and burned to the ground.  No survivors,” Jesse said in disgust as he slid the tablet over. 

Seven years.  Moon had to have been nine or ten, if his age was to be believed.  “Sounds likely.”

“What are you gonna do with Moon, Commander?  If M16 hears Hound has a teleporter, an honest to god teleporter, they’re gonna want him.  Kid can do it without the suit. You can’t just hand him over like that. Moira’s involved.  The science police will tear him apart trying to find her and whoever this Naomi is.”

“I know, Jess.  He’s got valuable technology and we need Winston to reverse engineer it.  We need to know how to stop Talon if they figured it out.”

“What makes you think they didn’t?”

“Look at him, Jesse.  He’s a kid. He’s expendable.  They put him in a flashy suit and gave him weapons he can’t use.  Athena said he was broadcasting, she caught him when the chameleon suit fried.  Winston turned that off, though, when he deactivated the suit.”

“So he’s a spy.  Does he know?”

“Doubtful.  Either that or he’s the best liar since I met you.”  Jesse laughed. “We need to learn how he teleports before M16 finds out about him.”

Jesse smirked as he thought of the surveillance footage.  “Well, the only way to do that is to get his ribs fixed and let him run an obstacle course.  Until then, we could work on his marksmanship. Kid’s a shit shot.”

“He’s not a recruit, McCree.  He’s information.” Morrison checked a notice on his tablet, an alert from M16.  ‘And he’s running to of time,’ he thought to himself.

 

\---

 

August 05, 2080, Early Monday Morning

The next morning Moon was, once more, handcuffed to a chair and waiting interrogation.  Angela had brought him a breakfast and he ate quickly, as if she would take it from him.  Jesse and Lena watched from the observation room as Jack sat down across from him and pulled out the file.  He sat quietly, reading. “So, Moon.” Moon ignored him. “Tell me something.” Moon lookup up briefly. “Did you know you were broadcasting what you were seeing?”  Moon shook his head. “Well, Winston turned it all off. No more spying for you. He’s working on some new eyes for you, he and Dr. Ziegler. It may take a bit, though, you can’t rush some things.”  Moon shrugged. “Why don’t you tell me a little bit about yourself?”

“Oh, no,” Jesse groaned.  “Not this.”

“Not what?” Lena asked.

Moon remained sullen and quiet.  “No? Well, let me tell you a little bit about myself.  I grew up in Bloomington.”

“Now, Bloomington is a very small town,” Jesse said along with Jack.  “Everyone knows everybody there. Not much to do, it’s mainly corn, but we made good with what we had.”  Lena giggled despite the serious tone of the room. “He had no toys, made do, and when Old Man Wilson’s roof lost a shingle it was the greatest day of his life.  He does this to drive them crazy, make them want to talk just to shut. Him. Up.”

“How long did you last?” Lena asked as Moon groaned and sunk his head.

Jesse shook his head.  “About thirty minutes.”  Lena huffed at him. “Look, there are some things a man just shouldn’t have to go through.”  They listened for a bit and Jesse nodded. “Here, he’s gonna give him a chance.”

“And that was the best day of my life.  We threw that shingle like a sports disc for an hour before we got caught.  You ever have a favorite toy growing up?” Moon said nothing and Jesse shook his head.

Jesse sighed softly.  “Here comes the fishing story.”

“What’s he trying to get out of the poor thing?” Lena wondered.

“Anything, really.  Any little detail he can drag out of the poor kid.”  Lena watched in morbid fascination as Moon slowly melted under Morrison’ monotone, Jesse chanting along with him.

“Best salmon I ever caught,” Morrison and Jesse finished.

“I hate salmon,” Moon spat out.  

“And why’s that?” Morrison asked.  Moon was quiet. “I always like a nice grilled salmon with garlic butter.”

“Sounds disgusting,” Moon muttered.

“See, people will do anything to escape this conversation,” Jesse pointed out.  “Now we’re going to learn a little something.”

Morrison tapped his folder against the table.  “Why’s that?”

Moon was quiet for a while, but Morrison continued to tap his folder.  “It’s the texture,” Moon finally admitted, mainly to get the tapping to stop.  “I don’t like it.”

“Well, there must be something you like,” Morrison asked.  “Shrimp? Lobster? Clams?”

“Just, you know, stuff.”

“If you don’t like salmon, maybe trout?”

Moon was quiet for a while.  “Grapes.” Morrison gave a curious sound.  “It’s, it’s just, grapes. Sometimes, if we were good, Moira would give us grapes or something.”

“How about a caramel apple?”

“Never had one.”

“Well, that seems a shame.”

“I grew up in a drug house, goat.”  Jesse snorted a laugh at Morrison’s expense and Moon’s sudden surge of emotion.  “I know what you’re doing. Reaper told me you would. After this you’ll start talking about baseball and that goal you never got to get.”

‘Reaper, huh?’ Morrison thought to himself, quiet for a moment.  “Home run,” he said quietly. “And why do you think I’m doing this?”

“You want information.  I don’t have any.” Moon sounded tired.  “Whenever we weren’t testing the suits they turned off my eyes.  Everything was underground. There were no windows! Couldn’t hear when it rained or anything.  I don’t think it rained, though.” As Morrison hoped, once the kid started talking he didn’t stop easily.  Part of him felt bad for utilizing his loneliness, but he needed information. 

“Any other trivia?” Morrison asked.

“The elevator stank.  It was just so damp all the time!  They made us learn English since they didn't want to learn Chinese or anything.  If I, if I just got in, got something, and got out, I’d be given a real job, they’d quit turning my eyes off, they’d let me keep the hands!”

“Why grab my visor?  You know you couldn’t escape with it.”

“He said it would make you mad.  And he gave me the boots. Said I could keep them if I could grab it.  Your visor.” Moon looked up at him. “See? I don’t have any information.”

“That was actually good information,” Lena admitted.

Morrison stood and uncuffed Moon, then hauled him up.  “You look tired. Why don’t we take a break.” Moon let himself be led back to his cell.

 

\---

 

August 05, 2080, Midday Monday

“So, that’s him?” Genji asked.  He and Hanzo had just returned from escorting an ambassader through hostile teritory.  “He’s so tiny. You’re feeding him, right?” He and Jesse were watching the security feed of the medical wing.  

Moon was sitting on the edge of the medical table, knees to his chin, fiddling with a Rubix cube.  Winston had managed to create a custom dataport reader and they had used medical tape to hold it in place as they downloaded information from him.  It was taking quite some time and the teen was obviously losing steam.

“Being a child slave does that to people,” Jesse mused.  “He likes my rose rice.” Jesse looked over at Genji, a little smug.  “Was upset when we told him it’s Lena’s beef stew for supper tonight. Said he wanted more of Jesse’s delicious rose rice.”

“Oh, he did not.”  Genji fumed a bit. If Hanzo were here, he wouldn’t have risen to Jesse’s bait.  “Is that a challenge?” Genji asked, rising on his toes to meet Jesse eye-to-eye. “Want to wager something on it?  Say, a nice bottle of sake?”

“You’re on, pipsqueak,” Jesse grinned.  “And you know how I like my whiskey.”

 

\---

 

August 05, 2080, Monday, After Supper

“Hey, kid,” Jesse said as he slipped into Moon’s cell after supper, small bag in hand.  “Hey, look, here, brought you some sopapillas.” Moon sat up and peeked into the bag. “So, here’s the deal.”  Moon pulled a sopapilla out and sniffed it, then bit it. His eyes lit up and he took a second bite. “You like those, huh?”  Moon nodded eagerly and shoved the rest of it in his mouth. “Good, so, Genji and I are gonna cook tomorrow, and he’s gonna try and tell you his rice is better.  He’s the green ninja guy, got a bad case of sassmouth. You tell him you like my rose rice, little buddy, and I’ll see you get all the sopapillas you want, got that?”

“What’s this got to do with teleporting and interrogation and everything?” Moon asked, suddenly suspicious.

“Nothing, this is between Genji and me.  He thinks since he’s Japanese he’s got a lock on how to make rice tasty, but I been makin’ it my entire life, so I think I know what I’m talkin’ about.”  Jesse reached into the bag and pulled out a little cup of honey. “Here, dip it in this.” Moon dipped the next one and kept eating, nodding. “And we made a bet that if you like mine better, I get some whiskey.  So you got my back?”

“I can do that.  But, what if he already came by?”  Moon reached under the pillow and pulled out a small box of milk chocolate coated butter cookies, the type Angela bought for snacks.  He had eaten three of them.

Jesse scoffed.  “Well, Genji didn’t care enough to actually make your bribe, did he, kid?”  Jesse grinned. “I mean, yeah, stealing Angela’s cookies is dangerous, but, you know?  I put care and love and sugar into each and every bite.” Moon nodded and him and bit into another sopapilla.  “You got my back, kid?” 

“These are a lot better.”  Moon nodded and Jesse stabbed the straw into the apple juice juice box for him.

Jesse reached out and rubbed his head, and Moon was startled at the affection.  “Good kid! Now I gotta get before he suspects something. And I’ll bring you some more sopapillas tomorrow, got it?”  Moon nodded at him and Jesse gave him a wink and a thumbs up as he left.


	6. Settling In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morrison gets his scan, and realizes he needs to try a new technique. Hanzo isn't good with children, but he tries.

August 06, 2080, Early Tuesday Morning

Morrison knocked before entering the cell, and Moon stood up.  “Got a lot on our plate today,” he said and Moon put his hairbrush down.  He had been given his hair ties back and was carefully tying off his braids.  Most of them were now unraveled a few inches, but he didn’t seem to care and tied them off where they were.

“Is that good?” Moon asked carefully.

“Well, Winston and Angela want to get you some more scans.  Non MRI, of course. You know what a CT scan is?” Morrison asked as he led Moon down the hall.

Moon’s face became passive and his voice dull as he recited from memory.  “The computed tomography scan is a a diagnostic medical test that, like traditional x-rays, produces multiple images or pictures of the inside of the body.  The cross-sectional images a CT scan creates can be reformatted in multiple planes and formats and can even generate three-dimensional images. The images of internal organs, bones, soft tissue and blood vessels provide greater detail than traditional x-rays.”  Moon looked up to him. “I know the rest of the program. It played whenever they turned on the machine.”

“Impressive.  But do you know what it means?”

“Pretty much.  It’s an x-ray that takes multiple x-rays and puts them together.”  Moon laced his fingers together, holding them vertically.

“You’re pretty observant, Moon,” Morrison said.  “You get CT scans a lot?”

“Well, you can’t MRI someone with implants, can you?” Moon asked bitterly as Morrison opened the door to the lab.  

“OK, we’re here.”  Moon quietly got dressed in the robe behind the screen and Morrison thought it was strange just how complacent he was.  He lay quietly for his CT scan and ultrasound, and when they were over he sat on the table, quiet and still. Morrison stood by him, then sat by him on the table.  

“Kid?”  Moon didn’t say anything, but he gripped at his robe a little with damaged hands.  Morrison put a hand in the center of Moon’s back. “Let’s get you dressed and down the breakfast.  You like oatmeal?” Moon nodded quietly. “What’s wrong, kid? Talk to me.”

Moon didn’t say anything at first, and Morrison waited.  “It’s not the tube, at least,” he said quietly, and grabbed his clothes.  He didn’t bother with the screen as he got dressed, and when he walked out of the medical bay Morrison didn’t stop him.

“Jack?” Winston asked as he walked over.

“Give him time.  Of course he’d be upset at being in a lab environment.  I didn’t even think about this.” Jack pulled his datapad out and clicked it, then pressed his communicator.  “Hanzo, do you have anything personal planned for today?”

“What do you need?” Hanzo asked.

“Can you keep an eye on the kid?  I’m a damned fool.”

“Understood.”  Hanzo didn’t say which part, though.  He put away his water color project and stood.  “Athena, Moon, please.”

Athena led Hanzo to a hall a few halls from the medical wing, and there he spotted his  pale form. He had seen Moon on the camera, but he wasn’t quite ready to see him in real life.  Moon had tucked himself up against the wall, tiny and sad looking. His hair almost glowed in the hall lights, making him look even smaller.

“Ah, there you are.”  Moon flicked his eyes to Hanzo, then returned to staring at the floor.  “Keeping the wall in place, I see.” Hanzo sat down next to the teen and remained quiet.  “I am Shimada Hanzo. It is good to make your acquaintance.” 

Moom mumbled something quietly, and Hanzo tilted his head at him.  “Moon. I’m Moon Echo.”

“Are you well?  You do not look well.”

Moon sighed and glanced at him, but Hanzo remained quiet.  “Just tired.” They sat quietly for a while. “He doesn’t like me,” Moon muttered, and Hanzo asked who.  “Morrison.”

Hanzo gave a soft hum and nodded, looking down at Moon.  “He doesn’t not like you,” he said quietly. “He doesn’t know you.  None of us do. We don’t know if you’re dangerous, if you can hurt our friends and loved ones.”

“I don’t want to,” Moon said quietly into his arms, “I didn’t want to hurt anyone.  I just want to, I just want, I don’t know.” He slouched a little more and Hanzo examined him.

After a few moments he spoke.  “When I first came here I was not... well received,” he admitted.  “The others, they tried to be kind, to make ourselves be friends, but it is not something someone can force.  We had to learn to trust each other and learn about each other.” Moon sighed softly but Hanzo knew he was listening.  “But once we learned about each other, we became a team, a family, and I would easily do my best to keep them safe.”

Hanzo looked down at him.  “The only thing Jack knows about you is that you got close to two people he cares about.  You fired and hit Lena and almost escaped. He wants to make sure you won’t hurt anyone.”

“I didn’t want to hurt her,” Moon said sadly.  “I just, he had me, and I was, and then I shot.”

They sat for a bit and Hanzo nodded.  He was not prepared for child raising, and decided that maybe what made him feel better might make Moon feel better.  “Right, come along now, the kitchen should be empty. I won’t have you missing meals. Breakfast might make you feel better.”  He stood and held his hand out, hauling Moon up. They walked to the kitchen and Hanzo prepared a quick breakfast of miso, fried egg, some fish, rice porridge and some natto.  They ate quickly and quietly, and Hanzo led him outside.

They walked to one of Hanzo’s favorite locations, a grassy area looking over the ocean sheltered by an outcropping of stone.  There was as small box with some yoga mats and he spread one for each of them, and Moon sat down, knees once more in their natural location under his chin.  Hanzo stood in position and looked to Moon, and slowly and deliberately rotated his arms in the Windmill exercise, breathing louder than normal and looking over to Moon.  He nodded and Moon stood back up. Moon followed Hanzo’s motion, and Hanzo gave him a soft smile.

They went through the Tai Chi routine, Hanzo occasionally correcting Moon’s posture or pose, and ended up sitting and meditating.  “Hey, Mr. Hanzo?” Moon said quietly, and Hanzo hummed at him. “I feel better.”

“Exercise is good for the soul.”  They were quiet until something flopped down next to them.  Moon gave a shriek and fell backwards, startled, and Hanzo sighed at the intruder.

“Hey hey hey!” Genji cheered, and Hanzo ignored him.  Genji folded himself into lotus position and slapped his hands on his knees.  “You’re Moon! I’m Genji.” Moon had never seen anyone like Genji before, and he scooted in a circle to face him.  Last night seemed so far away, a ninja slipping into his room and offering him cookies to like his food. Until Jesse appeared Moon thought he might have hallucinated it.   “Hanzo’s my big brother. Even though I’M the taller one.” Since Hanzo didn’t say anything, neither did Moon.

“Greetings,” a serene voice said after him.  “How are you today?”

“Ah, Zenyatta, hello.”  Hanzo rose and turned to face him, and Moon followed suit.  Zenyatta was an omnic with a surprisingly peaceful face, and he held his hands in front of him in a peaceful gesture.

“If I may presume, this is Moon Echo?” he asked, and Moon nodded at him.  “Greetings! It is always good to meet a new person.” He bowed his head and gave a soft sound as he looked over the ocean.  “Such a lovely view, don’t you think?” Moon felt like he was not part of the conversation, like Zenyatta was beyond quiet chit chat, but Zenyatta looked to him and continued.  “Are you enjoying the view?”

“I like seeing things, yeah.”  He looked out to the ocean. “It’s scary.  It’s everywhere. I can’t escape it.” The ocean, indeed, was a massive presence on the Rock.

“It can be,” Zenyatta noted.  “We know more about the surface of the moon than we do the bottom of the ocean.”

“How?” Moon asked, suddenly confused.  “It’s not real, is it?” Hanzo and Genji exchanged worried glances.  

Zenyatta pondered before answering.  “Is the moon real? An interesting question!  There is much you don’t know, Moon Echo, and no shame in knowing this.  We shall take joy in teaching you many things!” Moon looked up to the moon and thought.

“Hey, Moon?” Genji asked, and Moon looked over.  “Has anyone ever asked you what YOU want to do?” Moon shook his head.  “Didn’t think so. What do you want to do?”

“I dunno.  I don’t know what to do or how to do it.  I’ve never done anything.” He tucked his knees under his chin and continued to stare at the half moon faded against the blue sky.  “Never thought the moon was real. What is it?”

“It’s, Moon, it’s the moon.  It’s a, um, large round rock that shines light back to us.”  Genji wrapped an arm around Moon and pulled him close, and Moon fell into his side with a startled noise.  “This is called a side hug. You ever get hugs?”

“No, not really.  It was just, you know,” Moon said with a shrug.  He tried to pull himself away and Genji clapped his fingers on Moon’s shoulder, pulling him closer.  They watched the ocean for a while, and eventually Genji heard a soft noise. 

Moon had fallen asleep, and Hanzo and Zenyatta started to leave.  “Guys?”

Hanzo smirked.  “Enjoy your meditation, dear brother.  Try not to wake him, it’s obvious he doesn’t sleep well.”

“The comfort of another over yourself is a true mark of compassion,” Zenyatta added.  “I am proud of you.” Hanzo and Zenyatta nodded and wandered off, and Genji sighed.

“Hey, at least leave me my phone!”

 

\---

August 06, 2080, Tuesday, Lunch Time

Genji’s cell phone beeped and he checked the message, and he gave Moon’s shoulders a shake.  “Rise and shine, Moonboy!” Moon grumbled at him like a normal teenager. “C’mon, you’re getting a shower, you smell like teen aged boy.”  That did sound good, Moon decided, and sat up. “Commander said you’re to take meals with everyone in the kitchen from now on. So, c’mon, let’s get you clean.  Put your mat away, Hanzo gets a little cranky if they’re left out. A seagull steals it ONE TIME and he never lets me forget.” 

They reached the showers attached to the gym and Genji opened a locker.  “This is your locker, number ten. Combo is fifty-nine, ninety-seven, thirty-six.  Ready for real clothes?” There were some clothes in the locker.

“Real clothes?”  Moon eagerly pulled out the folded clothes and flipped through them.  He pulled the briefs out and flung them behind him is disgust. 

Genji watched their flight.  “Not ready for your big boy panties yet?”

“I hate briefs!  They never fit right!”

Genji peeked at Moon’s behind.  “It’s because you got no ass.” Moon snorted and picked a shower.  “I’ll see what I can find. Don’t go sneaking around!” Genji picked up Moon’s clean and dirty clothes and shook them at him.  “I’m taking these with me. Don’t wander off, Jack’ll have my metal ass in a vice!”

Moon shook his head and turned on the shower.  He scrubbed several times and finally took a cold rinse, and peeked outside.  Genji handed him a towel, and Moon dried off. “Got you some boxer briefs, a happy medium!”  

 Moon was given socks this time, and tiny sneakers.  He pulled the jeans on and rotated his legs and waist in them.  “These are weird.” Previously he had only worn loose pants or pajama bottoms.  “Do I have a shirt?” Genji handed him the undershirt, then a white t-shirt with a large red X on it.

“They’re jeans.”  Moon repeated to word to himself and pulled out the t-shirt.  “And that’s X Japan, best band in the universe.” Moon pulled the t-shirt on and pulled his hair through the neck.  “They’re before our time, though.” Moon pulled his braids to the side to brush his hair out. Genji picked a braid up and examined it.  “How did you get nothing but black hair in this thing? Aren’t you usually blind?”

Moon nodded.  “There was this hair braiding toy thing.  It picked the black hairs and braided them.  It was heavy and made noise.” Moon brushed the other side of his ample hair.  “It just yanked sometimes, though.” They started walking.

“OK, here we go.”  They had reached the kitchen, and he gave Moon a gentle shove inside.  “Hey, breakfast for lunch! I’m going to make your breakfast. Who all wants Genji’s special rice?”

“What makes it so special?” Moon asked as he sat down at the very edge of the bench.  He looked over and took stock of everyone in the room. Winston sat in the corner, Morrison next to him, Jesse across from Morrison, and Moon on the very edge.  “Is it like rose rice?”

“No, it’s better,” Genji insisted, and Jesse eyed Moon.  Genji quickly started to fry the rice, and added the egg.  

“You sleep OK, kid?” Jesse asked and poured himself a mug of coffee.  “On those ribs of yours?” Winston flinched a little.

“They’re on the mend,” Moon said quietly, and pulled his knees to his chin.  He watched the others eating, Morrison working on some toast, Winston working on some oatmeal, and Jesse working on bacon, eggs and beans on toast.  What made breakfast breakfast and lunch lunch?

Morrison pushed a plate of toast towards Moon, and Genji pushed it back when he put the rice down.  “Here we go, golden fried rice!” Genji said as he put down bowl down. Moon nodded at him and picked up his chopsticks.  “True Japanese culture, simple elegance, a time honored classic!” 

Moon eagerly began to eat.  “Can I have some more green things?” he asked and Genji spooned some in.  “Thank you.” Moon stirred the onions in and took several large bites, his hands barely holding the chopsticks steady.

“I have a new set of prosthetics almost ready for you, Moon,” Winston said as he poured some coffee.  “We’ll need to test them, of course.” Jesse pushed a mug of coffee towards Moon.

“New hands?”  Moon eagerly took a long drink of coffee, then put it down and shoved it aside with a wince.  Morrison shoved a glass of apple juice at him instead, and Moon almost finished it in one gulp before attacking the small sausages Genji put on the table.

Jesse shoved a bowl of his Mexican rice next to Moon.  “Here, rose rice, just like Granny McCree used to make.”

“Cool!”  Moon pushed Genji’s golden fried rice aside and pulled the rose rice in front of him.  

“Aw, you don’t like my golden rice?” Genji asked in a sweet voice as he glared daggers at Jesse.

“I mean, I like it and all,” Moon said through a mouthful, “but this stuff is good.  It’s got stuff in it.” Moon held out an offering on his chipsticks. “Try it, it’s good.”  Moon was surprisingly nimble with the limited motion his hands had. 

“I’ve had it before.”  Genji put his head close to Moon’s.  “What did he give you?”

“Rose rice?”  If Moon wasn’t confused he was a great actor.  He took another mouthful. “What? You were here when he put it down.”  Morrison stood up and checked the oven, and pulled out some more bacon.

“I don’t know what you did,” Genji hissed at Jesse, “but I know you did something.”

Jesse snorted and refilled Moon’s apple juice, then drank the coffee Moon abandoned.  “Could it be the kid just likes Mexican food?”

“I just really like the rose rice, it’s got flavors in it,” Moon said around another mouthful.  Morrison put some bacon on the table and dropped two strips in his bowl. Moon took a large bite.  “And this stuff, too.”

“Bacon,” Morrison said offhand, then put his datapad down.  “What did you eat before?” Moon was obviously nervous, but Hanzo entered the room and sat across from him, acting as a buffer.

“Not a lot.”  Moon shrugged and bit into his bacon.  “Mainly rice and corn. Bread. Sometimes apples.  Stuff that was easy to eat with a spoon.” Winston shoved the plate of eggs close to him.  “Moira fed us a lot, she liked healthy subjects, but after she left, it was just boiled rice and corn.”  Moon eagerly eyed the fried egg Genji dropped on his golden rice, and Moon slurped it down before going back to Jesse’s rose rice.

“She left a project unfinished?” Morrison mused, and Moon nodded.  “That doesn’t sound like her.” 

Moon shrugged and sniffed something else new to him.  “What’s this? Brekkie for lunch?” Lena asked as she slid into the kitchen and quickly claimed some bacon and avocado for some toast.  “Getting fresh supplies tomorrow?”

Morrison nodded and put two more slices of bacon in Moon’s bowl.  “Fareeha and Lúcio will be in tomorrow, needed to make some space.  I’m surprised there’s so much bacon left.” Moon was a little suspicious, but tried to take Hanzo’s words to heart.  Morrison didn’t know him, Moon was an unknown entity. He had no idea what was going on, honestly, but maybe if he behaved they would feed him again.

“What is this?” Moon asked as Lena grabbed some more avocado.

“It’s avocado, a South Central Mexican fruit, and even more specifically, a single-seeded berry,” Winston said as he put two slices on his toast.  “They’re very healthy for you, they have vitamins B, K, C, E, some potassium,” he continued, and spotted everyone looking at him. “And diverse fats,” he added quickly.  “What, we should be educating him! I can’t imagine he went to school.”

“Nope.”  Moon took a strip and nibbled, then decided he didn’t like avocado.  If green had a flavor, it was avocado. He did, however, like bacon, and Morrison put two more slices in his bowl.

“Shouldn’t we ask Angela if so much bacon is good for him?” Winston asked.  “He’s had six pieces by now!”

“It’s tasty.”  Moon finished his rose rice and looked around the table, and Genji pushed the golden rice towards him.  Moon eagerly started to eat that, too.

“We should be carefully feeding him,” Winston insisted, “so he doesn’t get ill.  He just said he never ate well before. This can’t be good for his digestion!” Genji sat down at the edge of the table and deliberately shoved Moon until he was sitting next to Jesse.

“Don’t just move people,” Hanzo snapped.  “It’s uncivilized.”

“That’s Genji in a nutshell.”  Angela Zeigler wafted into the room, finished the first coffee on the table she could reach, and rubbed her eyes.

“You sleep any, Angie?” Jesse asked and poured some coffee into Genji’s mug from the percolator.  Angela drank it and blinked at the table. She narrowed her eyes at Moon’s bowl, now half filled with sausage and scrambled eggs.  Greasy sausage and scrambled eggs, with too much salt and butter.

“Is anyone following the diet plan I had set out?”  There was a general chorus of ‘no’ and ‘not really’ and Angela sighed.  “He’s to eat lightly until he’s ready for things like bacon!”

“It’s fine,” Moon said.  “I’m on, like, eight pieces and I feel fine.”  He shoved a breakfast sausage into his mouth.

“That is not healthy!” she hissed, and Lena laughed at her.

“Don’t worry, Ange, we’ll make sure he’s fine!  Just go about your day, love!” Angela shook her head and finished the coffee.

“I expect each of you to read the diet plans set out!  Jack, that is too much bacon for a teen aged boy, and too much for you!  Think of your sodium! Lena, you need more carbohydrates than that! Is that nothing but a plate of beans, Jesse?  At least Winston is eating properly! Is anyone taking their vitamins?” She pulled a few pages from the refrigerator.

“What’s vitamins?” Moon asked, and Angela muttered to herself in Swiss.  She turned and left and Moon looked after her. “Why’s she mad?”

“She’s not mad,” Winston said as he buttered another piece of toast.  “She just wants everyone to be healthy.”

“Define healthy,” Moon asked as he shoveled more scrambled eggs into his mouth.

“Well, first of all, you need to learn to eat civilly.  I promise you, we’re not going to take your food from you.”  Morrison pushed the last two pieces of toast at him. “You don’t have to wolf it down.”  Moon nodded and tried to pick up the toast with his chopsticks.

“Ah.”  Moon didn’t seem to believe them.  “Is there anything else for today?”

“You mean food wise?” Jesse asked and finished his coffee.

Moon shrugged and drained his water cup.  “I just don’t know what the days are like here.  What my job will be. I’m assuming you guys don’t pack drugs.”

“So,” Morrison said, “what were your days like before?  I’m just curious. I get up, go for a run, take a shower, have breakfast, do paperwork.  What did you do during the day?”

Moon blinked in thought.  “It, OK, my day?” Moon asked.  He didn’t get why it was interesting.  “Get up, go down the hall for breakfast.  Get checked out, hope you didn’t get the guy with grabby hands who breathed funny, get assignments.”  He counted off on his cybernetic fingers. “Sometimes it was packing drugs, you know, stuff you could do with your eyes closed.  I packed a lot, no fingers. Put the package on the scale, press the button, put the drugs in the box, put the sticker on the box, tape it shut.  Get a rest, go pee, get crap dinner, go to bed. Sometimes you got pulled aside, they turned your eyes on, and you did suit tests.”

“Suit tests?” Winston asked quietly.

“Yeah, turn it on, do the gestures, hope it didn’t explode.  They had speed suits, climbing suits, chameleon suits. You know, suits.  After Moira left they mainly did suit tests.” Moon finished his apple juice.

“What did they do when Moira was there?” Morrison asked carefully.

“She,” Moon said slowly, “you got in the chair.  She messed with you, did things. Sometimes it was injections, sometimes the tube.”  Morrison was quiet. “It was like the magnetic tube, but, it burned. Wang Min never made it out.”  He shuddered. “Smelled like ashes for a week.”

Genji responded first, pulling the trash can close to Moon so he could vomit in it.  He waited for him to finish and let him rinse his mouth out. 

Jesse rubbed his back, smiling sadly down at him.  “C’mon, kid, let’s take a day off, watch a movie. There you go, up and at ‘em!”  


	7. Reports

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morrison gets his information.

August 06, 2080, Tuesday, Late Afternoon

“How’s the kid?” Morrison asked as he passed Jesse in the hall.

Jesse paused and cracked the door open.  “He’s just watching movies with Hanz and Mei and me.  Kid likes John Wayne and Elton King, he’s got taste.”

“I’ve got M16 breathing down my neck, Jess, we need answers.”  Both voices were louder than usual, carrying into the media room.  “They suspect we have a teleporter.”

“Well, we’re on the second movie of a Three Mesquiteers marathon.  2056 remakes.  I got my priorities, and that's culturing up the kid. ”  Jesse hitched up the popcorn tray and used his hip to open the door to the media room.  “M16 can wait.”

He shut the door and went to the couch.  Mei had returned from her trip checking the readouts of some weather stations and wanted to unwind with a movie.  “OK, here we go, got the shaker flavors, got your raspberries,” he said as he handed Mei the berries, “and some more sopapillas.”  Moon unfolded himself from the sofa and eagerly took them.

“Here, try some.”  Mei dropped a few berries into Moon’s popcorn.  “Is there any apple soda left?” Hanzo pulled one out from the bar.  They had to be hidden from Angela’s occasional junk food purges.

“Here, the last one.  Did you get the hurricane seasoning?”  Hanzo gave Moon a grape soda this time and Jesse shook some curry into the popcorn.  “That is not hurricane popcorn.”

“Yours is coming up next, this is Mei’s.”  He held out the popcorn, she dropped her berries in, and he gave it a few more shakes.  “Ma’am.”

Halfway through ‘Santa Fe Stampede‘ Jesse heard a soft sigh and looked down to his side.  Moon had fallen asleep, instantly curling himself around Jesse’s right arm, and was now half snoring, half breathing.  Jesse lifted his arm and let Moon snuggle, putting his arm over his frail form.

“Poor kid,” Mei said softly and covered him with a blanket.  “You know this is all new to him.” By the third act he was in a sleep deep enough that Jesse could move him to Mei’s side so he could use the restroom and not even stir.

 

\---

 

“Jack,” Winston said as he held out the printouts.  He had circled several paragraphs in various colors of ink and highlighter.  “Moon wasn’t just an initiate. He was a test run.” Winston pointed at several lines of text.  Morrison knew they were words, but he didn’t know what they meant. He shook his head and adjusted his visor.  “Still having troubles?”

“It’s like there’s fuzz between the connections.  Moon disrupted a sensor or something.”

“Here, let me clean and realign it for you.”  Morrison sat down and handed Winston the visor, not surprised Winston had the maintenance and cleaning tools so close at hand.  “From what I can tell,” Winston said as he carefully adjusted the ports, “Moon is clear of spyware. He had a watching program in his eyes, and some trackers, but we turned those off in Barcelona.”  Winston picked up the canned air and made soft puffs. “His spine, Jack, his spine and neck are augmented.”

“That’s a bit expensive for Hound, isn’t it?” Morrison mused.  They were one of the smaller sects of Talon. He pulled out his braille board and Winston sent it the file.  Morrison read the report, but he didn’t understand most of it. He felt the image of the spine, the 3D CT scan.  It felt like a spine with cable supports like a suspension bridge, cables connecting the spine to itself and to some plates.  “I’ll have to see it to understand, I suppose.” He felt a long horizontal post and ran his thumb over it. “What’s this?”

“It’s his data port.  Hm, you’ve got a bent connection, just a moment.”

Morrison continued to try and make sense of the report.  “So is his ability in his spine, instead of a suit? That’s dangerous.”

“It’s not in his spine, it IS his spine.  Which is why he needs the suit. He can only supply himself with so much energy to teleport, which is one of the reasons he’s underweight.  Too much power and it overloads, destroying the spine, too little and it doesn’t work, and I’m not sure what the consequences are. At any rate, his death was assured and he would have had a devastating end.”

Morrison could hear him using small tools on the delicate machinery.  “What else do you know?”

“He’s been genetically altered, and extensively.  Some of it’s cosmetic, like his hair, but most are actually similar to the Soldier Enhancement Project.  We’re still decoding most of the files, but we’re lucky. Moira always keeps excellent notes.” Winston suppressed a shudder.  “OK, I’ve replaced the bent connection in the port, I’m just going to clean it and reset it. We pulled some information from the suit, and if what I was reading is correct, there were Solars before Moons.  Solar Delta had it before him.”

“How many?”  Winston was quiet.  “Winston.”

“The notes mention a fourteen of moons, Alpha through November.”  Morrison sighed quietly. “They mention solars, at least to delta.  Visor is resetting, let me get at you.” 

Morrison sat patiently as Winston cleaned and adjusted the leads on Morrison’s temples.  The sensors were flesh colored and nearly invisible, and took minimal care. “What were the odds of his survival?  Of the suit malfunctioning?” Morrison pondered as Winston checked the port with a flashlight. Morrison could make out the difference in light as Winston checked his pupils.  “I’m fine, Winston, it’s the visor.” His vision was limited to knowing when the lights were on and if something were moving in front of a light.

“Just being thorough.  Here you are. It’s in front of you.”  Angela sometimes put the visor back on for him or put it in his hands, but Winston always held it out for him.  Morrison liked Angela, but he never liked her putting it on for him. “Better?”

Morrison tapped it and nodded.  “Much, thank you. What do we know about him personally?”

“Well, he’s Chinese, has a fondness for Jesse’s Mexican rice, and he’s quite terrified of you.  He might be fifteen, but no older than seventeen, but I’m fairly certain he’s sixteen. Taking malnourishment into account, he has the growth markers of a sixteen year old child.”

Morrison thought back to every conversation they’d had, how stiff and quiet he was when they were in the interrogation room.  “I suppose I did crack his jaw pretty good. I’ll talk to him. It’s almost time for our daily meeting, anyways.”

 

\---

 

“Sorry ‘bout monopolising the kid,” Jesse said as he sat down.  “We did get some more info from him, though. Mei’s got him, showing him some calligraphy.”

“It’s fine, we needed to try a new technique.”  Morrison pulled his visor on.

Hanzo crossed his legs as he pulled out the notes he made, all on paper with tidy handwriting.  He much prefered paper to datapads. “I’ll check into the Lau family, but there’s not much to report.  They’re still dead.” That was as close to a joke as Hanzo ever got. “Most children his age were sold to or claimed by the Lau family, but Talon burned them to the ground and claimed them as assets.  They had a drug processing facility on the border of Spain and France, run by the Naomi family. They mainly spoke English.” During the movie they got Moon to talk about the weather, the heat, the sounds, just casual conversation, slowly drawing information from him.  “I’ve given Genji the details, and he says it sounds familiar. He’s checking into it.”

“Chief, I wanna take him to the range.  He likes me, I can get him to talk. We can get a lot more out of him with honey,” Jesse said thoughtfully as he watched Jack’s eyebrows move as if he were squinting.

“And sopapillas.  Genji knows you bribed him.”  Hanzo tapped a note. “I’m concerned, though.  He’s a natural manipulator. You saw how he played Genji at breakfast.”

“Kid’s a former slave, Hanz,” Jesse said slowly.  “You adapt or you die. I think we both have practice in that.”  Hanzo gave a soft hum. “He can be dangerous if we don’t train him up right, and he won’t even mean it.”

Morrison thought for a moment, and he pushed the papers on his desk around.  “Take him shooting, Jess, I trust your judgement,” Morrison said with a nod and rubbed his temple.  

“How are you?  You keep,” Hanzo said, moving his hand in a circle around his eyes,  “adjusting yourself.”

“Oh, the kid grabbed my visor.  Winston cleaned it out and repaired it, but it’s acting up again.”

“Just let Winston fix it, you got spares,” Jesse scoffed.  Much like how people had glasses they hated to wear, Morrison had visors.  “Use the green one.”

“No.  It makes me look old.”  Jesse laughed and Hanzo shook his head.  “Besides, I think the kid broke a connection in my face.”  He collected the notes and feed them into the scanner to be added to his braille board.  Sometimes he saw things better with his fingertips, since it changed how he read things, and he needed a new perspective.  “Dismissed.” 

Jesse and Hanzo stood up and said their goodbyes.  “Saluting, boss man,” Jesse grinned, knowing Morrison liked a verbal response with his visor off.  “Hanzo ain’t bowing. He got no respect for you, boss man.” Morrison could hear Hanzo smacking Jesse’s shoulder from his desk.


	8. Honey and Bullets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You really do get more information with honey and sopapillas than you do MRI scans and daily interrogations.

August 06, 2080, Tuesday, Late Afternoon

“Nope, both eyes open!” 

“Both eyes open,” Moon repeated, and closed his green eye again.  Jesse corrected his stance and tapped Moon’s cheek twice.

“Open.  What type of tech you got in those orbs a yours?”

“Just, you know, eyes.  They don’t work well, though.”  He opened his eye and took aim. The shot barely clipped the paper target and Jesse shook his head.  As he started to correct Moon, Moon snorted. “Both eyes were open!”

“No, here, hold still.”  Jesse wrapped himself around Moon and pulled his arms into position.  “You’re flinching. Hold it steady! Why’d they even give you guns in the first place?”  He braced Moon’s wrists, hoping the little Springfield Armory EMP4 9mm was small enough. They had tried two other guns before finding one small enough for him.  

Jesse was now standing behind him, chin on Moon’s head, adjusting his wrists.  “Cup it with your hand, there you go. Now, exhale and GENTLY pull the trigger.”  The shot hit the target’s heart dead center, and Jesse could feel Moon jump and swallow.  “Squeeze it, don’t yank it, got it? Nice and easy. Again.”

Jesse stepped back and Moon tried to keep his posture straight.  The gun dipped slightly before he fired, hitting the upper right hand corner of the target, and Jesse took it from him.  “C’mon, let me show you on the monitor.” Jesse quickly unloaded, and set the safety, then put the gun it its holster. On the monitor he pointed out the way Moon flinched, and Moon nodded.  “Again?”

Moon nodded and they continued firing.  “Can’t I use two guns?”

“If you couldn’t use them on the fly, what makes you think you can use them on a range?” Jesse sighed.  Moon looked down. “Why did you have them?”

“They gave me the outfit and the assignment.”  Moon shrugged and Jesse reloaded the dummy bullets.  

“What exactly was your assignment?”

“I was supposed to get something, like his visor, or something, and get out.”

Jesse laughed at him.  “And you knew you couldn’t get out and tried anyway.  I like you, kid.” Moon blushed a little. “You busted his visor pretty good, he’s been having problems with it ever since.”

“I just, you know.  I was mad. He hit me.”  Jesse adjusted Moon’s arms, and nodded at him.  Moon fired, still jumping, but his flinching was better.  “He kept saying visor. Get the visor. Go for the visor.”

“Huh.  Here, square your feet.”

“Why’s the target so close?” Moon asked.  It was only twenty feet away, if that.

“Did they give you ANY training before strapping guns to your arms and letting you go?” Jesse demanded, and Moon shrugged.  “They gave you a fancy suit and let you go. God damn it all, that ain’t right! They send you here to die, kid?” Moon lowered the gun and shrugged again.

“I wouldn’t have been the first,” he said softly.

Jesse gently took the gun from him, unloaded it, set the safety, and holstered it.  “Kid.” Moon wouldn’t look at him. “What happened to you was wrong, and it shouldn’t have happened.  I’m sorry we failed you.”

“What are you talking about?” Moon demanded in confusion.  “You didn’t do anything.”

“Exactly.  We were formed to protect people like you, and we didn’t get to you in time.  I’m sorry.” Moon stood quite still, and Jesse clapped his shoulder. “If you let us, we’ll do what we can to keep you safe.”

Moon showed the intelligence Jesse was certain he had, street smarts from years of survival.  “Morrison said he would send me back if I didn’t cooperate. Was that a bluff?” 

Jesse nodded at him.  “He ain’t sending you back, he ain’t gonna turn your eyes off, and he ain’t gonna take your hands.  I promise you.” Jesse pat his shoulder. “He just needed information, to see how dangerous you are.  You got inside, you made it to the labs undetected, you might have gotten away with it if your suit didn’t fail.  That scared him, actually.” Moon snorted. “Honestly, that’s a feat and it’s impressive.” Jesse examined the target.  “You said your eyes don’t work right?”

“There’s a lot of, well, they don’t work right.  I, it’s, colors are off. Things just don’t focus.  Sometimes it’s like, I dunno, like a dirty window?”

“Let’s let Winston take a look at you, OK, kid?  He wanted to see you anyways.”

 

\---

 

“This won’t hurt a bit, we just need to remove the sclera and iris,” Winston was saying excitedly, and Angela put a hand on his shoulder.  Moon put the printout she had given him down.

“Perhaps Moon does not wish to hear the exact details, Winston,” she said with her heavy accent.  “Please, take your seat.” Moon nodded nervously and sat down in the examination chair. “Now, the hardest part will be coming up with the gestures you wish to use to control your eyes!”

“Control them?”

“Well, yes,” she said.  “Didn’t you read the details?”

“Oh, um, yeah, about that,” Moon said and a slow blush crept over his face.  “I, um, can’t read.”

Dr. Ziegler assumed he met English.  “I’ll just get the Chinese translation, then.  Do you speak Mandarin or Cantonese?”

“Mandarin,” Moon said.  “But I can’t read it. Or English.  Or Russian.” 

Everyone in the room stared at him, and Jesse sucked air through his teeth.  “Morrison’s not gonna like that,” Winston said as he shook his head. “Wait, you speak Russian?”

“Um, yeah, a little.”  He shuffled his feet. “Enough, you know.  Get up, pack this, stand over there, you know, basic stuff.”

“I think we’re missing an important question here,” Winston said.  “How much do you know your suit and eyes and hands could do?”

“Um, turn invisible, and power my tessering.”  He hadn’t actually used his skill in a while, and didn’t know how to feel about that.

“They never told you about any of the other functions,” Winston guessed quietly.  He shook his head. “They, oh, that makes me mad. Don’t worry, we’re going to take every care to educate you.  Oh, there’s so much you don’t know!”

“Let’s work on letting him see first, Winston.”  Dr. Ziegler gently pat Moon’s arm. “Don’t worry,  måne mus , it will all be OK.”

 

\---

August 06, 2080, Tuesday, Later Afternoon

Moon sat down in the chair in the interrogation room, wrists out, but Morrison didn’t cuff him.  “I think we’re beyond that.” He sat down, folder in hand, and flipped through it. “So, Jesse says you’re a horrible shot.”

“I’m getting better, sir,” Moon said quietly.  “He’s a good teacher.” Moon shifted in the chair some.

“Let’s talk about Héchuáng.”

“Let’s not.”  The sudden fear and stiffness confirmed Morrison’s suspicions about Héchuáng.

“Moon,” Morrison started.

“Morrison,” Moon countered, just like Jesse did.  Morrison looked down at him, and Moon shrunk down.  “Sorry.” His voice was quiet. The added sir was barely hissed.

“OK, let’s talk about your language skills.  You speak a few languages. Impressive.”

“Thank you.”

“Mandarin, you speak some Cantonese, then?”

“Just a little.  Enough.”

“Your English is excellent.”

“Thank you, sir.”  Moon tucked his chin on his knees again.

“Jesse said you speak Russian?”  Moon looked down at his hands. “But you can’t read it.  Or anything else.” Moon nodded, not having been aware it was something to be embarrassed about before.  “Well, you did OK getting by this far. Reading classes have been added to your schedule. Just let us know important things in the future, please.”

“I just didn't think it was important,” Moon said quietly.  “It was never something I needed, or had, you know? I was blind for a few years, and Hound didn’t think I needed it, so, yeah.”  Moon scuffed his feet. “Yeah.” 

“I’m not upset at you, you know this, right?” Morrison asked, and Moon nodded quickly.  “Are you scared of me, Moon?” Moon looked down, nervous. “So, Moon Echo.” Moon nodded.  “How’d you get that name?”

“I was in the moon group, and I was test subject E.”

“Moon group?” Morrison asked, hoping to get more information on the Solars.

“Yeah, we were split up, Solars, Moons and Stars.”  Morrison couldn't help but be angry. How many children needed to suffer?  “None of the Stars survived. They were, you know, not strong. Not like the Solars.  And we were given letters, and that’s all we were called.” 

“So you’re only called Moon Echo?”  Moon nodded at him. “Do you have a name?”  Moon didn’t answer. “Been a while since you used it?”  He looked away, then back, and Morrison suddenly realized his eyes were both emerald green.  “Did Winston get you new eyes?”

“He, um, fixed them for me.  Pull the parts out, put new ones in.”  Morrison inwardly shuddered; he wasn’t looking forward to Angela playing with his right port this evening when he ran out of excuses to delay it.  “I see colors better, now, things focus easier. It’s not, you know, hazy.”

“I’m impressed you got as far as you did with impaired vision!”

“That’s what Jesse said.”  

Morrison adjusted his visor a little.  “We’re trying to decide what to do with you.  If we let you go, Hound will get you. You’ve got no chance on the outside against him, or Talon.  They know you’re here, but they won’t try to take you from us. We’re too fortified here.”

He flipped another page.  “M16 has an interest in teleportation.  They want to use it for all sorts of things, but Angela, that’s Dr. Zeigler to you, doesn’t think it can be removed without hurting you.  So we need to keep you safe from them, too.”

He put everything down and laced his fingers together.  “You’ve never been in control of yourself, have you?” Morrison asked quietly.  Moon shrugged. “You’ve never had options, and we don’t have any good ones for you.”  Morrison sighed a little louder than he wanted to. “We’re not giving you a choice, either.”

“At least you feed me,” Moon said in a hopeful tone.  He didn’t want Morrison upset; adults did weird things when they got upset.  “And I got a dry place to sleep. And I’m not a slave or a prisoner.”

Morrison smiled sadly for a second and Moon saw the strange expression before Morrison caught himself.  “You’re still going to be, well, a prisoner, but you’ll have free run of most the place. Half of the place.  A good quarter. We just need to get you more clothes, some boots,” Morrison said.

“I want my jacket!” Moon said quickly.  “I, she gave it to me.” Morrison tilted his head at Moon.  “Moira. She, she said,” Moon faltered. “She said I was brave.”  It was obvious to Morrison that Moon had complicated feelings about Moira O'Deorain.

“You went through some horrible things, Moon.  Your jacket’s in poor condition, but it’s being repaired.”  Moon nodded. “C’mon, I’ll show you to your room.”

“I don’t want to go back to the cell,” Moon said quietly.  “It’s boring. Can’t I watch movies with Jesse? That was fun.”

“No, I mean a real room.”  They entered the building most of the bedrooms were in, and Moon spotted a few signs on the doors.  One was in Mandarin and he paused. “You can put your name on the door if you like, like Mei has. Actually, looks like Winston beat you to it.”  They stopped at a door with a map of the moon on it. “Here, this is your communicator.”

He handed a small device to Moon, and it flickered.  “It’s your key to the place. If you lose it Athena will assume you’re an intruder and put you in lock down until you’re rescued.”  Morrison gestured to the door panel and Moon looked at it. “Just tap it.” Moon pressed the panel and the door opened. “My recommendation is to put it in your gloves.  Jesse keeps his in his left hand.”

Moon’s room was larger than his cell, and he stepped inside.  There was a single sized bed with a night sky themed comforter set, a desk and chair, and a dresser.  There were no windows, but the light was ample, the vents were active and the ceiling high, so it wasn’t entirely like a tomb.  

“It’s a little bland, but you can decorate.  We’re a heavily fortified building, so windows aren’t really a thing.  Lena put lights on the wall and put them on a timer, and covered them with a curtain for false windows.”  Morrison gestured to the sliding doors. “There’s your closet, and you’ve got a small shower. Thought you might like your privacy.”  Moon nodded and opened the closet. There were several pairs of pants, some shirts and a few pairs of boots. “Oddly enough, we had five pairs of boots in your size, and four pairs of shoes.”

“And they’re mine?” Moon asked carefully.   

Morrison nodded at him.  “All yours. The clothes, the bed, the room.  You need to keep it clean and there will be room checks, but we won’t barge in on your privacy.  Normally we don’t like food in the rooms, you can thank Lúcio for that later, but Jesse thought you might like some rations for peace of mind.”

Morrison pointed to a small box between the desk and the bed, and Moon opened it to see several small packets of MREs and a few water bottles.  “Why don’t you come help me make dinner. It’s my turn. Thought we’d make Philly Cheese Steaks Sandwiches.” Moon could hear the pride in Morrison’s voice as he made up his mind.  “Some steak fries, a salad for Angela, we’ll be all set.”

 

\---

 

This time, Moon didn’t look like he was trying to bolt the entire meal.  He had helped toast bread, slice vegetables, fetch plates, and pour coffee, whatever was asked of him.  Moon seemed interested in learning, and Morrison took the time to teach, and Morrison hoped his fear was lessening.

“I think we’ll fire up the grill once everyone is back,” Morrison said as they took Winston his Veggie Cheese Steak and Dr. Ziegler her salad.  They then sat quietly in the kitchen, eating their sandwiches and with Morrison going over basic letters, and it seemed Moon had some reading skill, but not much.  He could recognize letters and certain words, and knew his name. It was easy to teach him the individual letters, and Morrison found him some pudding cups while he practiced.


	9. The Kid’s All Right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moon's gonna be OK.

August 07, 2080, Wednesday, After Breakfast

Moon had been sitting in the kitchen, knees to his chin as usual, datapad balanced on his knees.  A voice was reading in his headphones as the words highlighted on the screen Winston had loaned him.  

 

“There is nothing to be done," said the little woman calmly.

"But who was she?" asked Dorothy.

"She was the Wicked Witch of the East, as I said," answered the little woman. "She has held all the Munchkins in bondage for many years, making them slave for her night and day. Now they are all set free, and are grateful to you for the favor."

 

Moon snorted.  “I’m glad she’s dead.  I hope the Munchkins are OK.”  He looked at Dorothy in the illustration, and traced his fingers over the lines.  The datapad wouldn’t let him continue the story until he read the words back, and he slapped his hand on the table looking for his toast.  Winston shoved it closer as he read his own scientific journal.

“Oh, they’re fine, Moon.”  Winston are his peanut butter.  “There are, do you want me to spoil it for you?”

“Who the what?” Moon asked and looked up.

“There’s another race of people who are enslaved, but Dorothy frees them, too,” Winston explained.

“Good.  I like Dorothy.  She’s nice.” Moon took a bite of toast and a sip of soda.  Winston was keeping him supplied with root beer so long as he was learning to read.  “This is a neat book. I like it.” He found his place and started to read again.

 

"Who are the Munchkins?" inquired Dorothy.

"They are the people who live in this land of the East where the Wicked Witch ruled."

"Are you a Munchkin?" asked Dorothy.

 

There was a soft chime and Winston and Moon looked up and Athena made an announcement.  “Ray is making his final approach with the supplies.”

“Ah, good, come on, Moon, let’s help bring supplies in.”  Moon saved his place and tucked his datapad in the messenger bag Hanzo had found while tidying a storage room.  It had a crescent moon and the words “Eight Hermit Gods” on it, a relic of a Rickenbacker concert, and he had given it to Moon along with some of their albums.  Moon was enjoying the music. Genji had a wide variety, but Jesse only seemed to have country and classic rock, and Mei listened to Chinese pop with sappy lyrics.  Winston was too random to pin down, but Morrison had a limited pallet of bland. Angela had yet to introduce him to her music.

They wandered over to the landing pad and watched as Jesse embraced a woman only slightly shorter than he was as she hopped out of the cargo bay.  He put his prized hat on her head as they talked, and she gave it back and handed over a small package.

Whatever it was Jesse loved it, aiming a kiss at her cheek, and she put one hand on his face and shoved.  They laughed and she unfolded a ramp. A second figure appeared at the cargo bay, a young man with dark skin and thick braids on the top of his head.  Moon could feel his cheerfulness from across the landing pad, and he felt his heart stop a little.

“Who’s that?” Moon asked and peered around the corner.

“That’s Fareeha, and he’s  Lúcio ,” Winston said, and Moon blushed and pulled back.  “Go say hi. They’re both very nice.”

Moon continued to blush and he pulled away.  “I think I’ll talk to him at lunch.” Moon leaned against the wall, watching as Lúcio picked up a box and carted it to the main office.  Winston clapped Moon on the shoulder and guided him to the Orca.

“Fareeha, how are you?” he grinned and was handed a box.

“Pretty good, Winston!”  Winston hauled her into a one-armed hug and she embraced him.  “Who’s this?”

“This is Moon Echo.”  Moon nodded at her. “He’s with us for the time being.”

“Nice to meet you, you can help deliver parts.  Garage, please!” She gave Moon a box and he almost crumbled under it.  “You OK, there?”

‘I still function!” Moon gasped and Winston handed him a dolly.

“Try not to get yourself killed,” Fareeha laughed as he figured out how to work the dolly.  “You feeding him?’ Moon heard her ask as he wheeled the box into the garage. As he put the parts on the shelf he heard Jesse laughing, and Moon peeked out the door.  

Jesse and Lúcio were hauling more crates, and Jesse smiled over at Moon.  Moon ducked back into the garage. What the hell was wrong with him? He waited for Jesse and Lúcio to enter, then tessered quickly back  to the Orca.  He was a little breathless, but after seeing Lúcio, he wasn’t sure what the difference as.

“Here, these are for the kitchen,” Fareeha said and Moon took the box.  Moon nodded and loaded the dolly, and heard Jesse talking as he and Lúcio returned.  

Moon ducked inside the Orca with a soft sound, and Fareeha looked at him oddly.  “Hey, Fifi,” Jesse said, “have you seen Moon? Want him to meet Lúcio.” Fareeha looked in at Moon and he shook his head.

“Sorry, just missed him.  Here, for the med bay.”

Lúcio dropped the supplies on the cart and waved.  “Cool, I’ll go say hi to Angela!”

Fareeha stopped and looked over at Moon.  “You OK?” He nodded, and Jesse looked inside.

“What’cha hiding from?” he asked wryly, a knowing grin spread over his face.

“Nothing!” Moon snapped quickly, hopped out and started taking the supplies to the kitchen.  He loaded the refrigerator, the walk-in freezer, then went back for the dry goods, unsure what went on the shelves and what went in the pantry at first.  

“Oh, no, here, I can help.”  Mei’s voice made him jump, and she took the tea from him.  “Cereal on the fridge please.”

“How?” he asked, and Mei suddenly started laughing.

‘I’m sorry, I’m so used to Genji helping me!  There, just stand on the chair.” Moon put the cereal away and started taking the dolly back to the plane when he Jesse spotted him and waved him down.

“Hey, hi, you must be Moon Echo!” Lúcio said and Moon jumped.  “Don’t worry, I don’t bite!”

“Kid’s just a little shy,” Jesse said and nudged Moon with his elbow.  “G’won, don’t be rude.” Moon babbled quickly in Mandarin, turned and left.  “I think your fame precedes you.”

“It’s OK, I’m used to it.  Besides, he’ll come around!  Hana did! Hey, is that Mei? Mei, hey, hi!”  Lúcio skated off and Jess smirked.

He tapped his communicator.  “Hey, Athena, did you catch what Moon just said?”

“I’m assuming you mean in English.  From what I can tell it was basically, ‘You of the be the he what?’  Roughly.” Jesse laughed heartily as he realized what was going on. “Do you need me to keep track of him?”

“Naw, it’s good, Theeny.”  Jesse slung a barrel of water over his shoulder as Hanzo strolled up with the cart.  “Hey, Hanz, wanna hear something cute?”

“Cute is not my thing.”  Hanzo and Jesse loaded the water on the cart.  “Does Lúcio have another frog?” he asked in an interested tone.

“Moon’s got a crush on him.  Kid’s too gay to function around him.”  Hanzo snorted through his nose, almost a laugh.  

“There are worse people to crush on than Lúcio,” Hanzo said with a nod.

“Like who?” Jesse asked, and Hanzo grinned at him.  “Asshole.” Hanzo smirked at him and pushed the water to the lab.  

 

\---

 

“Ah, fresh ingredients!” Jesse hummed happily as he resorted the pantry.  “Who all wants sopa azteca for dinner? Moon, you wanna learn how to make masa?  I got some cal and fresh corn meal!” 

“No,” Mei said, “we should make something Chinese for Moon, since he hasn’t had proper Chinese in a while!  I’m making zha jiang mian!”

“How about some buckwheat,” Genji started to asked, but Moon shot up like a rocket.

He almost dumped his datapad to the floor and knocked over Jesse’s empty coffee mug.   _ “I want noodles!” _ Moon suddenly blurted out in Mandarin.   _ “I want noodles!  Wheat noodles! Are you making wheat noodles?  I love wheat noodles!”  _

_ “Wheat noodles with pork mince,” _ she said, and Moon’s tongue slipped briefly from the corner of his mouth.

_ “And, and,” _ he started, and Mei nodded.  Moon’s hands rested on the counter.   _ “And dumplings?” _

_ “Dumplings!”  _ she cheered, and Moon’s grin grew.  _  “I make my own noodles, you can help!” _

_ “I wanna help!” _  He hopped up and down a few times in excitement.

“What’s go you all hopping about now?” Jesse asked.  “Literally, too, I might add.”

_ “Mei’s going to teach me how to make noodles and we’re having noodles with pork mince and dumplings and are there radishes?  I haven’t had radishes in so long. Damn, I didn’t realize how much I missed real food!” _ he gushed and looked to Mei.   _ “You mean it, right?  We’re making noodles?” _

_ “Of course I mean it!”  _ she said as she rolled her eyes.   _ “Do I LOOK like a woman who jokes about noodles?” _  She pat her belly and then shoved on his shoulder.   _ “Wash your hands, we’ll get started!” _

Moon looked down to his gloves in sudden thought.  They were made to look like long leather gloves, and he rippled his fingers.  “Earth to Moon! Something wrong?” Jesse asked, and Moon looked up, startled.

“No, just, just thinking.”  He washed his hands to his elbow and dried them off.  “It’s just, everything works, and I’m getting noodles.”  Mei suddenly pulled him close by the shoulder and planted a soft kiss on his cheek.  “I think it’s OK.”

 

\---

August 07, 2080, Wednesday, Lunch

Genji and Moon were dueling for the last of the radishes.  They had been sliced long and thin, and they were the only two really eating them.  They clacked their chopsticks together, each trying to get the last two slivers, and Genji plucked Moon’s chopsticks from Moon’s hands with his own.  “Have at thee!” Genji cheered and flung the chopsticks into the sink.

“Hey!” Moon snapped.  “I was using those!” Hanzo took the last two slivers and put them on Moon’s plate as Genji clicked his chopsticks over the prize.

“He worked hard to make supper, he’s earned them,” Hanzo said firmly.

“Thank you, Mr. Hanzo.”  Moon took the fork by Genji’s plate and used it to eat the radishes.

“I licked that,” Genji said flatly, and Moon shrugged.

“I’ve eaten worse than green ninja cyborg spit.”  He tried to get some noodles on his fork and muttered softly as it didn't work.  

“It’s cyborg ninja,” Genji corrected, elbow on the table, and Hanzo discreetly knocked his elbow while picking up a bowl of rice.  Genji caught himself and continued to eat his sliced green beans.

“Hang on, hang on, I got this,” Moon said as he tried to scoop noodles on his fork.  

“Ya know,” Jesse said as he twirled his noodles like spaghetti, “you always see white people in movies trying to chopstick, but never Chinese people trying to fork.”

“People fork all the time in movies,” Genji said and wriggled his eyebrows.

“It’s why we have age appropriate ratings,” Fareeha said as she took a long drink of tea as the others laughed.

“Forks are not easy to use with false hands,” Moon muttered.   He had instinctively picked the fork up as if it were the top chopstick.  Morrison held his own fork out, and Moon copied his grip.

“So, do you skate?” Lúcio asked.

Moon was confused.  “Skate what?” His cheeked blushed a little.

“You know, blade.  Roller skate.” Moon shook his head.  “I’ll just have to teach you!”

“Got any skates my size?  You’ll need them for Moon, his feet are tiny!” Lena added.  “Absolutely delicate.” Hanzo finally took pity on Moon’s attempts to get noodles to his mouth and fetched him a pair of chopsticks.  

“Surprisingly we had a variety of boots in his size, four, five pair,” Winston said as he finished off his noodles.  “We got sent sixes instead of the twenty-sixes Reinhardt ordered. Kept ‘em, just for laughs.” 

“I like the black ones.”  Aside from his white X Japan t-shirt, almost everything Moon wore was black.  No one had the courage to tell him just how pale and shining it made his face look.  “With the heals.”

“Make through one day, Moon,” Morrison said as he gestured with his fork.  “One. Day. Without face planting and we’ll talk.”

“I don’t fall all the time!” Moon insisted.

“You do spend a lot of time on the floor, little buddy,” Jesse teased as he slurped up his noodles.  So far he had only stumbled a few times.

“You feel twice walking to lunch,” Winston said, “in the black boots.”

“You didn’t sit at the table, you fell into it,” Genji pointed out.

Lena popped a green bean in her mouth.  “Want me to teach you to strut in heels, duck?” she asked, and Moon made a frustrated noise and returned to his dinner.  “Oh, don’t be sad, love, we’re just teasing with you.”

“Since you’re not officially a prisoner,” Morrison said, “you can roam around the building freely.  You can’t go into personal spaces or storage, but you can roam halls, the gym, the media room and the kitchen.  Outside doors won’t open for you, understood?” Moon nodded at him, unsure what to do with so many freedoms. 


	10. T.G.T.F.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn a bit more about Moon, a hobby of his, and the facts of life he doesn't know.

August 08, 2080, Thursday

As the day went on they found out that Moon could sleep anywhere.  So long as he had two quiet minutes and a stable surface he slept.

 

“Don’t sleep in the kitchen.”  Lena kicked at Moon’s feet. “Come on, either help or go find someplace else!”  Lena would have minded so much but he had wedged himself in the pantry behind the door and by the shelf with the pasta.

Moon grudgingly stood up as Lena continued to tap at his feet.  “Technically not the kitchen! It’s the pantry!” 

 

“Don’t sleep in my lab.”  Winston told him as he shook him awake.  He wouldn’t mind so much if Moon was in a chair or even in one of his tires, but Moon had found a space between the wall and the desk that didn’t fit quite snug, and he snored.  “Go on, shoo!” Moon scooped his jacket up and mumbled as he slunk out to find someplace else to illegally nap.

 

Morrison sighed as he spotted the teen sleeping in the window well in his office.  “Didn’t I give you a room? Why are you sleeping in my office? HOW did you get in my office?  How are you comfortable?” His back was curved in the lower right corner and his knees were pressed to his face, his ankles above his head.

“Wasn’t locked!” Moon grumbled as he lifted one hand.  He tried to rotate some. “Little help? Kinda stuck.” Morrison shook his head and gripped Moon’s shoulders and knees, and after a moment got him unwedged.   He shoved Moon out of his office and started reading the reports on the assassin known as ‘Sunfox.’

 

“This.  Is. The gun range.  Do not. Sleep. In. The gun range.”  Jesse stomped near Moon’s head and the teen jerked himself awake.  Moon scooted out from under the bench and took his headphones off. “How do you sleep in the gun range?”  How did he get on the gun range? Morrison was going to have to adjust Moon’s security a little.

“Lay down and close my eyes.”  Jesse sighed at him and shook his head.  

“Don’t sleep in the gun range!”  

 

When he wasn’t sleep, Moon was trying to leech body heat from people.  It started with sitting next to Jesse while watching movies, unconsciously inching towards him on the couch.  Then falling asleep and wrapping himself around Jesse’s arm.

During meals he would scoot near whoever was closer and knock elbows and occasionally drinks.

Winston had been teaching him to read only to find Moon suddenly on the same side of the table, nestled up against his arm.  Then asleep around his arm. Then somehow on his back. Winston wasn’t sure how that happened, but went about his day, snoring teenager draped over his shoulder.

Moon was slung, face down, over Winston’s left shoulder as Winston went over the biometrics he pulled from Morrison’s visor.  He had finally dropped it off and was wearing the green one for now. “That ain’t natural,” Lena said, and lifted one of Moon’s hands.  It fell down, slapping Winston in the back. “How’s he do that? Some nights I can’t get six hours in.” 

“He’s a teenaged boy with a reality bending device implanted in his spine, Lena.  I’m surprised he still functions some days,” Winston said with a shrug.

“Still function,” Moon snored from Winston’s back.

Winston pat the back of Moon’s waist absently.  “Yes, yes, you still function.” Winston continued to examine Morrison’s visor.  “This is very odd. Its programming is compromised. I’ll have to wipe the entire thing.”  

“Functions.”  Winston adjusted Moon slightly and picked up a safety pin.

“It’s 2078 and we still use pins to reset electronics,” Lena laughed.  She put a small basket on the counter. “Well, I just came by to drop off some lunch for you.”  Moon’s head jerked up and he gave a snort. “C’mon, love, there’s lunch.” Moon blinked, never very smart when he first woke up.  “Genji made sushi and soup!”

“Do I like sushi?” Moon mumbled, and he pushed himself up.  Before Winston could catch him Moon fell off of his shoulder with a startled shout.  “I’m OK!” he chirped as he stood up. Lena laughed and tugged him out of the lab.

“Hey, run outside and get Lúcio, love?  I’ll get the table set.” Lena shoved Moon out the door while Genji rolled the sushi.  “He’s just outside, go!”

Moon stumbled over the door and wandered out into the sun.  He stretched, grumbling out the kink in his waist, and looked around.  Lúcio was kneeling down, taking a picture of a butterfly resting on a blade of grass.

“So, um, hi, you’re, you’re Lúcio?” Moon asked, and Lúcio stood up.  He had an ancient digital camera in his hands, and he grinned at Moon.  “I’m, I’m Moon. Rènshì nǐ hěn gāoxìng. Wǒ jiào Féng Yì. Moon Echo. I’m called Moon Echo.  You can call me Moon.” He blushed and looked down, feeling stupid. They ate breakfast together that morning.  Lúcio had orange juice. “We never officially exchanged names when we met.”

Still, Lúcio gave him a bright smile and a friendly laugh.  “Nice to meet you, Moo n!  I’m Lúcio Correia dos Santos.  You can call me Lúcio!” Lúcio held his hand out and Moon gingerly took it.  “So, you’re a new recruit?” Moon nodded at him, and pulled back, hands behind his back.  “Hey, can I take your picture?” Moon blushed and looked down. “Sorry, didn’t mean to upset you.  Just you got this aesthetic going on, the black and white and gold, and it looks good on you, mermão!”

“Oh, it’s, um, my name’s Moon.”

“No, no, my man, it’s good, it’s good!”  He hefted his ancient digital camera. “Just taking inspiration pics, Moon, I love this old tech.”

“What IS that?” Moon asked and peered at it.  It was a flat box shape with one curved edge and a small lens on it.  It didn’t look like much to Moon, but Lúcio held it carefully, strap over one wrist.

“Turn of the century digital camera!  Took me forever to get running, but I love taking pictures with it.  Here, take a peek!” Lúcio pulled out a datapad and handed it over. “It makes everything look like you took a picture at the end of the ‘90s.”

“Everything’s off center,” Moon said and he tabbed through.  “These are weird, they look like they’re, I mean, my eyes. My first ones, not these, Winston made me these.”

“Yeah, the lens is off center, the resolution is low, the colors are all whacked out, I love it.  It makes everything look retro, you know? I love retro tech. You can’t get this with a Pinprint filter!”  Moon handed the datapad back, and Lúcio pointed at the generator building. “See, if you take pictures of buildings and cars and stuff, it looks like it should be taken in the 1990s, but the cars are wrong, you know?”

“I don’t know a lot about art,” Moon admitted.  

“You think it’s art?” Lúcio asked, and Moon nodded.  “Why, thank you!”

“Well, Winston said art is anything that serves no purpose other than emotional, to express or convey a thought.  You’re trying to evoke the emotion of the past, so,” Moon said with a shrug, “art.”

Lúcio gave Moon a dazzling smile.  “You’re all right, Moon.”

“Genji’s got sushi.”  Moon blushed and awkwardly jammed his thumb at the kitchen.  “Good stuff.”

Lúcio took Moon by the shoulder and led him inside.  “I’m starved, I hope he’s got some soup!”

 

\---

 

Winston was chewing on his celery, thinking it could use more peanut butter.  He flipped through several screens, trying to sort the data into anything useful.  Moira’s notes were clipped, professional and coherent, but they were constantly tampered with by Naomi.  “Athena, does Naomi’s writing style match anyone in the physics world? Any unique quirks, spelling?”

“Her style is too generic.  There are stable traits, but none that are unique enough to determine origen.”  Winston nodded, having come to that conclusion earlier. Still, like when Morrison used his braille board, sometimes having a different look or someone else looking at it was helpful.  He flailed for his peanut butter but didn’t find it.

Moon’s personal files were interesting in a boring way.  Moira had changed his hair to its unique pattern and changed his hairline, had removed a mole from his left eyebrow, and had evened the skin tone on his shoulder by ‘correcting’ a patch of vitiligo.  There was a lock on his growth, somehow, something that suddenly made sense as Winston checked his back to check the vitiligo on his spine and shoulder. Keep him from growing and they didn’t have to replace his spine again.

He had something called a redistribution field, and Winston hummed as he opened the file.  He reached for his peanut butter again, and heard a soft scrape. He looked over to see Lena smirk as she pulled it further away from him.  He leaned for it and she held it above her head.

“You need real food, Winston!” she scolded.

“Peanut butter is real food, and celery.”  He planted one hand on the desk and lifted himself up, still reaching for the jar.

“Genji made you some sushi, how about that?  Rice and fish, red snapper, very tasty!” Lena held the can behind her back as Winston reached for it, both of them laughing.  “Veggies roles aplenty, love!”

“Ah, just let an old ape have his treat!” Winston said with a false scowl.

There was a curious noise from the computer.  “Oh, what this thing is called? What’s the word?”  Moon was looking at the file on the redistribution field.  He tried mouthing the word out. “Re di stri but i on. Ready sss, ready,’ he mused, and Winston leaned back to the computer.

“Redistribution.  It’s a redistribution field.”  Winston gave up on the peanut butter and returned to the computer.  “It somehow manages to create a field around you,” he started to say.

“The redistribution field uses the surface tension of the electrons in the air around you to redistribute the energy fields you come in contact with.  It is activated when a sufficient charge is present. Field effects may include static build up and release, disruption of energy sources and electronic devices in the vicinity and electroshock triggered seizures.”  Moon’s voice was dull and bored as he recited. “Yeah, it makes energy weapons shock your buddies around you and gives you a full body, um, you lock up, then you lose control. It’s like a seizure, but you don’t shake.  It sucks.” He stared at the monitor, mouthing the word ‘redistribution.’ “Solar Bravo was never the same after he locked up.”

Lena zipped forward and suddenly hugged Moon.  “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be, Bravo was an ass.  All the solars were, except Delta and Igloo.  Delta, he tried to make sure we all got food, and Igloo was nice.  She looked after the Stars.” Moon sighed and leaned into Lena, almost knocking her down.  “There were really big and really mean, but not Solar Delta. Solar Igloo was never given the same treatments, and the treatments never took on Solar Delta.”  He twitched an eye.

“He was a control specimen?” Winston asked, and Moon nodded.

“So was Charlie.  That’s why he,” Moon started to say, and stopped.  “When I left, there was only Mike and Hotel left.”

Lena suddenly tapped Moon’s shoulder.  “Wait, the Nato alphabet, I is for India.  Why Igloo?”

“Solar Igloo and India were twins.  India... bad things happened to India.”  Lena continued the hug and Moon let her. “He just kinda went, well, he was aggressive.  Tried to start fights. Got sedated once too often and didn’t wake up.” He gave a shudder.  “I didn’t like him.”

“You all went through such horrible things,” Lena muttered.  “Want some ice cream?”

“Yes,” Moon said in a serious tone.  “Yes, I do.”

“C’mon, love, let’s go get some ice cream!”

 

\---

 

“So,” Lúcio said as he poured himself some juice.  “I think Moon likes me.”

“He’s a sweet kid,” Jesse said with a grin. 

“You think he knows?” Lúcio asked and took a sip.  Hanzo sighed and Jesse laughed. “I’m serious. You think he knows himself?”

Hanzo gave a contemplative hum.  “Do you think anyone has,” he said with a pause, “informed him of anything?”

The sudden realization his Jesse.  “Kid ain’t never had The Talk.” Jesse shook his head.  He and Lúcio quickly touched their noses. “One two three not it!” they chanted as one.

“I’m not the one telling Jack,” Hanzo said with his finger to his nose.  “One two three not it!” he and Lúcio said, and Jesse swore quietly. He had been too stunned to see Hanzo put his finger to his nose to react in time.

“I’ll tell him tonight.”

 

\---

 

August 08, 2080, Thursday, After Supper

Morrison paused, carting a bottle of root beer and slice of pie, and he spotted Jesse, juice box and bag of what he could assume to be sopapillas.  “McCree.”

“Morrison,” he replied.  “Taking your pie out for a walk?” Jesse asked.

Morrison stabbed his thumb at Jesse.  “How about you? Didn’t know you liked apple juice.”

Jesse grinned at him.  “Oh, I like it well enough.”

Suddenly they both laughed.  “You’re here to bribe the kid, too?” Morrison asked, and Jesse snorted.

“Been bribing him all week.  You’ll notice he’s been a lot more cooperative?”

“All week?”  Morrison nodded.  “And Angela said he has put on two pounds already.  Come on.” Morrison knocked on Moon’s door, and it slid open a little.  “Moon.”

“Sirs,” he said cautiously.  His eyes lit up as Jesse handed over the bag with the sopapillas and the apple juice, and the door didn’t open fast enough.  Moon looked at the pie and soda, and Morrison put them on the desk. “Same deal as usual?” Moon asked Jesse as he pulled his hands on.

“Same deal.”  Jesse stabbed his thumb at Morrison.  “Same for Jack, too.”

Moon took the spoon and bit into the pie.  He eagerly took another bite, and struggled with the bottle.  Morrison held his hand out, Moon let him open the soda. Moon took a long drink and continued to eat the pie.  “OK, Genji’s food still sucks.” Moon continued to eat. 

Morrison grinned at him.  “That is apple pie a la mode.  It means it’s covered in ice cream.”  Moon eagerly spooned ice cream into his mouth.

“Hey, Jesse?” he asked with a guilty face, and Jesse nodded.

“It’s OK if you like pie more than sopapillas,” he laughed.  “So long as Genji’s food still sucks. He been by tonight?” Moon took a bite of crust, reached into his rations box and pulled out a package of Pocky.  “That boy does not know how to bribe people.”

“I like bribes.  They’re delicious.”  He took another long drink of root beer.  He quickly finished his pie and soda, and Jack took the plate, spoon and bottle.  “Thanks.” Moon eagerly tore into the bag of sopapillas.

“Pace yourself, kid.”  Moon nodded at Morrison and shoved another sopapilla in his mouth.  “See you in the morning.” Jesse nodded to Morrison as they left and they headed to Jesse’s room just down the hall.

“So, Jack, we got another problem,” Jesse said and put down two glasses and started to pour the whiskey.  Morrison took a sip. “Kid never got The Talk.” Morrison sighed and held out his cup for Jesse to top it off.  “Lúcio and I called not it.”

“I am too old to give kids The Talk,” Morrison grumbled.  “How about Angela? It’s her job. Or Winston. He likes Winston almost as much as you.”

“I don’t think he’ll appreciate it no matter who gives it to him,” Jesse said.  “Oh, and he’s super crushing on Lúcio. Kid’s got it bad, almost too gay to function.”

“I’m leaving THAT talk to you and Hanzo,” Morrison sighed.  “Why don’t you just give him The Talk?”

“Jack, you know what my The Talk was like?” Jesse asked and sipped.  “Don’t kiss boys, you’ll die. Boys don’t cry. I went and got your ma pregnant four times so I’m the expert.  How was yours?”

“Pretty comprehensive, actually,” Morrison admitted.  “Dad had textbooks. Mom made notes and flashcards.” Morrison took a long drink.  Having teachers for parents made things interesting sometimes. “Damn, it was embarrassing, she made me write an essay.”

“Of COURSE they did,” Jesse laughed, and they drank.  “Did she grade it and put it on the fridge?” Morrison made a rude gesture and finished his whiskey.  “God damn, Jack, what are we going to do with him? I don’t think any of us got any right raising a kid.”

“Well, Winston seems to be doing OK with him.  And Hanzo.” Both of them had to admit Hanzo was surprisingly patient with children.  Who knew? “But Genji can have no part in his sexual education.”

“Hell, I’m half expecting him to pop out from under the bed.”  After a moment Jesse peeked under his bed. “Nope, not here, kid’s still safe.”  Morrison stood and let himself out. “We’ll talk to Angie and Winston in the morning.”


	11. No one wants The Talk from a Cowboy or a Gorilla

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introducing Reinhardt, two feet taller than Moon and aggressively friendly. Perhaps this should be tagged with body horror? Tagging with body horror.

August 09, 2080, Friday Morning

“Skojar du?” Angela snapped in disbelief.  “We should have seen this coming! We should have seen this coming!”  She started rooting through her books, muttering and pulling out collections.  “Here, here, use these,” she said as she handed three books and a datapad to Morrison.

“Why does everyone assume I’m going to give him The Talk?” Morrison asked.

“It would feel most,” Winston said as he searched for the word, “awkward coming from me.  Being a gorilla and all.”

“Isn’t human health and The Talk part of your job description, Angie?” Morrison asked in a tired voice.

“Do you think a teen aged boy wants the talk from a woman?” she asked.  “Though, I am the most qualified.”

“I’ll give it to him,” Genji offered, and everyone gave a variety of ‘no’ answers.  “What? I know about all that stuff.” He put his juice box down and make a circle with one hand.  “You see,” he started and held up an index finger, and Morrison picked up a file folder and smacked Genji on the side of the head with it with very little force.  “Well, if you don’t, I will. Don’t worry, I’ll behave.” Genji held up his pinky in promise.

“Define behave?” Angela asked.  She liked Genji and adored him very much, but he was surprisingly immature about some things.

“When a daddy and a daddy love each other very much, you see, variation on a theme, since he’s gay,” he started, and Angela scoffed at him.  “I’m serious. Kid’s got it for Lúcio. Watch his eyes light up. You don’t need to be a ninja to see it!”

Morrison handed Angela the folder he had swatted Genji with.  “That! Is! His! Business!” Angela said, tapping his head each time for emphasis.

“But it comes with certain health issues,” Genji countered, “which, as a beautiful and experienced bisexual man, I am well aware of.  Hey, it’s either me or Jesse, and can you imagine that? Damn, I can. Now,” he said in a mockery of Jesse’s voice, “there comes a time in a little buckaroo’s life when he starts noticin’ da ladies ankles.  Oh, or Hanzo!” Genji laughed, coughed, and straightened his spine. “Sed is like a complicated mathequation,” he started, and Angela put his hand on his face and shoved until he lay down on the table, laughing.  “No, no, let Tracer tell it! That goes somewhere love, I’m certain!” he cackled.

“This is why you can’t have any part of this.  He needs education, not stories,” Morrison said as he shook his head.  “Fine, fine, I’ll find the time and talk to the kid.” Angela collected the books up and handed them to him.  “Do I need all of them? Can’t I just, you know?” he started to say.

“Why not read him the report your mom probably made you write?” Genji said and took a long sip of his juice box.

Morrison leveled his gaze at the younger Shimada brother.  “Put the juice down, Shimada.” 

Genji laughed at Morrison and kept the straw in his mouth.  “Nope! It’s the only thing keeping you from hitting me with another book!  Ninja away!” Genji rolled backwards and moonwalked out of the lab.

“Why do we keep him?” Morrison asked as he shook his head.

 

\---

 

Moon muttered to himself in Mandarin while he rooted through the pantry.  Ever since he learned Mei, Hanzo and Genji all spoke Mandarin, he had been speaking his mother tongue more and more.  Jesse assured him time and time again that no one would stop him from eating, but he was still nervous. He made sure the coast was clear again, and continued to root for the bread.   _ “Bread bread bread, if I were bread where would I hide?” _ he sang to himself in a nonsense tune.  He wondered how hard it was to make Jesse’s weird noodles.  Jesse had made good noodles for lunch with red sauce.

“Ah, a mouse!” a giant voice boomed and Moon jumped as a giant hand wrapped around him.  Moon yelped and gripped the wrist of a hand that held him by the ribs. The man was easily two feet taller than Moon and brandished him as if he weighed nothing.  “Such a tiny little mouse! Has anyone ever thought of feeding you?”

The man gave him a toss, turning him in the air and rotating him, catching him easily.  He didn’t notice Moon catch his breath as his almost healed ribs burned. “And who might you be?  Are the little moon Jackie was telling me about?”

“Reinhardt!” a redhead snapped.  “Stop that, Reinhardt, put the poor thing down!  You’ve scared him half to death!”

“Look at him, he’s so tiny and cute, like Lena!” Reinhardt continued, boosting him up.  Moon’s head hit the ceiling and Reinhardt pulled him close, embracing him and patting his head.  “Ah, I’m sorry! What is the smallest moon in the galaxy, Athena, do you know?” Moon struggled but it only amused the giant man.

“The smallest moon in the solar system S/2010 J 1, a moon of Jupiter barely two kilometers in diameter,” Athena’s voice explained.  “Please put Moon Echo down.”

_ “Yes!  Down! Now!  Please!” _ Moon snapped in Mandarin.

“That is not a very catchy nickname,” Reinhardt muttered and the redhead leapt up to slap the back of his head.  “Fine, fine, little mouse is free to go.” Moon took a step and tessered down the hall, crashing into Morrison as he popped out of his teleport.

Morrison caught his datapad and aimed a hand at Moon’s arm.  “Moon!”

“Running now!” Moon said in a panic as Reinhardt peered down the hall.  Moon ended up outside, scaling the wall to the roof of the communication tower.  He rolled and took cover behind Hanzo.

“Hello, Moon.”  Hanzo was not amused.  “And what is the problem?”  Hanzo opened one as he felt Moon shaking behind him.  Hanzo adjusted his legs and turned. “Moon?”

_ “Big guy, why is he so big, he hit MY HEAD against the ceiling you know how high the kitchen ceiling is?”  _ he rambled.   _ “Never seen anyone so big and he’s just IN THE KITCHEN and he just picks me up and then I ran into the commander shit I’m in trouble aren’t I?  I think I knocked him down why the HELL did he pick me up? My ribs hurt! I just wanted to make toast!” _

Hanzo rotated completely and put a hand on Moon’s shoulder.   _ “That would be Reinhardt.  He is a bit energetic.” _

_ “He.  Is. Huge.” _  Moon had taken his usual posture, knees to his chin, shaking slightly.  Hanzo moved his hand to Moon’s back.

_ “Moon?”   _ Moon didn’t respond at first, and he took a deep breath.   _ “Why did this scare you so much?” _

Moon blinked and wriggled his feet and knees.   _ “I don’t know.  He just picked me up and my head hit the ceiling.  I miss Jesse.”  _ Hanzo rubbed Moon’s back gently.   _ “He’ll be back soon, right?” _

_ “He will when his assignment is over.” _  Hanzo continued to rub Moon’s back.   _ “Do you miss him, or the sopapillas?”   _ Moon blushed a little.   _ “When Mei returns I’ll show you how to make manju, OK?”   _ Moon nodded, and Hanzo gestured to the box with the mats.  Moon spread a green mat and Hanzo led him through meditation.

 

\---

 

“Ah, there he is!” the giant voice boomed, and Moon put his hands out.

_ “No!  Stop! Bad!” _ Moon insisted.  “Don’t pick me up!”  As Reinhardt put his hands down Moon slowly unfolded himself.  “Don’t go picking me up like that!”

Reinhardt muttered something to the redhead with him and she smacked his shoulder.  “Hello,” she said gently, “I’m Brigitte Lindholm. This is Reinhardt. He’s very sorry, isn’t he?”

“Yes, I’m sorry.  I made rahmschnitzel!”  His mood shifted instantly from morose to cheerful, and he moved his hand as if to sweep Moon into the kitchen.  “You are far too tiny, mouse!”

“Moon!” he snapped back.  “Don’t, don’t just grab me like that!”

Reinhardt startled Moon by kneeling down and raping a massive hand over his shoulder..  “I have done you a great disservice, little one, and I wish to apologise. I will not pick you up without your permission again.  Now, please, come accept my apology. It’s getting cold!” Reinhardt winked and returned to the kitchen.

Moon started to wander away and Hanzo sighed.   _ “He will find you.  And he will feed you.  Eat your schnitzel.” _

_ “What the hell is schnitzel?” _ Moon asked.

 

Delicious.  Rahmschnitzel was delicious.  As he finished the second one on his plate Reinhardt slapped a third one down, and Moon nodded his thanks and shoved some more fried mashed potatoes onto his chopsticks and into his mouth.  

Hanzo thought noodles and fried mashed potatoes to be a bit much, but Moon eagerly plowed through it.  “Should he eat so much before dinner?” Hanzo asked as he sipped his tea.

“There’s going to be dinner, TOO?” Moon asked through a mouth of noodles.  In the week he was there they had never not fed him, but he was still shocked to be fed on a regular basis.

“Have they never fed you?” Reinhardt asked in mock surprise.  “We’ll remedy that, won’t we, Brigitte!” He held out another chop to Hanzo, who was still working on his first, but Hanzo declined.  Morrison walked into the kitchen, spotted the frying pan, and quietly tried to turn and walk out. “Jackie, my boy! Come and eat!”

“Pass,” Morrison said, and Reinhardt grabbed his shoulder and dragged him back.  Morrison sat down and looked at Moon. “How many have you eaten?” Reinhardt gave Morrison the rahmschnitzel Hanzo had declined.

“This is three,” Moon muttered around his pork.  He had sliced it to use his chopsticks. Next time he planned on slicing it and mashing it, the noodles and the fried mashed potatoes into a single bowl.  “I love this. This is delicious.” He took a long drink of tea and continued to eat.

 

\---

August 09, 2080, Friday Afternoon

“I have a theory.”  Winston tried to ignore the soft snoring coming from somewhere.  “I’m going over the strange energy readings in his spine,” he said and looked under his desk, “and I think it’s multiple burned out power sources.”

“Burned out?” Morrison asked and checked behind the computer.  Where had Moon tucked himself this time? Winston had called them to the lab and Moon had hidden himself to take a nap.  “Is it part of the powersurge that saved him?”

“And it’s why he’s always eating and sleeping,” Angela explained.  “He has to use his own calories and mitochondrial energy supplies to tesser.”  Morrison stepped a few feet to the left and listened. 

Winston looked over.  “Is he behind the computer desk again?”

Morrison paused and tilted his head, then peered inside the smaller tire swing.  While too narrow for a regular person, the slender sixteen year old boy fit perfectly.  He was mostly sitting up, legs rotated and slightly bent, and arms above his head. “How is he comfortable?” Morrison muttered.  “What are the risks?”

“Well, first off all we don’t know what type of radiation shielding he’s got, if any.  There could be damage from, what was THAT?” Moon had stretched and given off a strange, twisted sound of a yawn before fading again.  Angela shook her head. “Honestly, that boy. We need to somehow shield and recharge them.”

“Can you do it non-invasively?  I don’t think he’d appreciate going under the knife,” Morrison noted.  He remember the Soldier Enhancement Program, and was trying to apply his experiences to Moon, but it was difficult to try and think like Moon did.  Morrison had been a healthy, willing participant of legal age.

“Sadly, no,” Angela sighed.  “The CT and ultrasounds gave me plenty to work with, but we’re looking at disc replacement on his thoracic vertebrae, one through seven.  I would have to remove them one by one, replace or deal with them, and put them back.”

“Not a good way to spend an evening!” Moon groaned from the tire, pointing with one hand.  “I don’t have any pain, though, I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” Morrison snapped.

“That worries me, do you feel any pain at all?  Anywhere?” Angela asked.

“Yeah, just, not in my hands.  But my back doesn’t hurt. I mean I feel pain, you know, but, I’m not IN pain.  I remember the, um, the replacement, kinda sorta? Took me a few days to walk again.  Had to learn to balance. My back just hurt so much, and Moira fixed it.” He struggled to sit up and got his elbows on the outside of the tire.  “I don’t like, you know, stuff, and all, but, if they have to be replaced, Moira would have put the designs in the files.”

“We found them, Moon, that’s how we found out about the failing power supply.  How much do you really know about your body and modifications?” Winston asked as he helped pry Moon from the tire.  He sat the teen down inside of it like a seat.

“Kinda sorta?” Moon said.  “I know I can teleport, tesser, you know, and I’m actually kinda strong.  I’m hungry. Like always.” He kicked, starting to swing a little. “And I can take a lot of damage.  That, that wasn’t fun. Testing that.” When he didn’t get the heavy tire to move Winston gave him a shove with one hand.  “I’ve got a pretty good sense of smell, better than most, I think? And good ears, but I dunno, might be normal? Maybe just used to being blind?”  

Moon gave a mighty swing and rolled backwards with a shriek.  Morrison caught him and put him down. “And you’re clumsy as all hell!” Morrison snapped.  “Are you getting dizzy?” he asked in a far gentler tone.

“Ssssssometimes?  It’s like there’s, you know, something behind me.  Pushing.”

“When did this begin?” Angela asked and examined Moon’s eyes.

“Um, not too long after I snuck in.”  Winston and Angela sighed. “Does this fall into things you need to know?” he asked meekly, and everyone nodded at him.  “OK, OK, um, what else,” he muttered. “Tasers don’t work on me. They had to beat me.”

Angela folded her arms around him and held him, and Moon hugged her back.  “It’s over, though, we’re keeping you. We’ll call Reggie, he’s an expert on anterior spine surgery.”  Moon just nodded and let himself melt into the hug.

“Well, we’ll need testing, of course, to figure out how much to adjust,” Winston said.  “We should take him to the facility in Algeciras. Reggie can meet us there and we can give you some basic tests.”  Moon sighed and sunk into Angela’s arms.

“No more experiments,” Moon asked quietly, and Angela rubbed his back.

“Just a few, little mouse,” she said quietly.  “We’ll do what we can to fix you up and keep you safe.”  Moon was starting to believe them. “Speaking of, Jack, we can check that sensor if you’re ready?”

“I need to arrange meeting with Reggie,” he said and quickly left.

“Gee,” Moon said quietly, “it’s like people don’t like it when other people mess with stuff inside their bodies.”  Angela gave his temple a kiss and let him go. As usual the affection startled, then calmed, the teen.


	12. The Doctor’s Visit Goes Well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moon gets checked out by a spine specialist, Reggie Lindt. The visit goes well.

August 10, 2080, Saturday, Early morning

“OK, up!”  Moon grumbled and ignored the person shaking his shoulder.  “C’mon, kid, time to get up.”

“Nyoooooooomonan na rah ready,” Moon muttered as he gripped the blanket and rolled over.

Morrison gave his shoulder a few pats and shook him again.  “You said you’d be up at seven. It’s seven thirty. Get up.  Get dressed. Go pee. You can eat in the hovercar.”

“But I’m all warm and soft and I don’t need to go anywhere that isn’t bed!” Moon whined and snuggled deeper.

“Moon Echo, up.”  Morrison pulled him into a sitting position, and Moon gave a cat like noise.  “Food.”

“I like food,” Moon mumbled and yawned.  “This is my room?”

“You’re half an hour late, I was concerned.  Get dressed.” Moon nodded and slung his feet on the floor.  “If I leave and come back in ten minutes, are you going to be in bed again?”

“Maybe?” Moon said sleepily, and Morrison reached into his closet.  He put some clothes on the bed and crossed his arms. “All right, all riiiiiiiight,” Moon said as he dropped the blanket and picked up the slacks, button down shirt and a sweater vest.  “Boring!”

Morrison put a slender tie down as well.  “Deal with it. You can wear leggings if you want under your pants.  Nine minutes.” Morrison left Moon’s room, and Moon quickly showered and dressed.  He was sorting his hair out when there was a knock on the door. “You ready?”

“Just getting my hair done.”  Did he want many little braids braided together?  One large braid? 

“Do it in the hovercar, you have to go.”  Ponytail it was. Moon tied his hair high on his head, gave it a shake, and checked his bag for his datapad and extra battery for his hands.

He zipped his short boots on, grabbed his bag and opened the door.  Morrison handed him a lunch bag and jerked his thumb down the hall, and Moon had to jog to keep up.  “Short legs!” he complained, but Morrison didn’t slow. “I’m sorry I slept in! Hey, Morrison?” He stopped and looked back at him.  “When we get back, you get your port looked at. If I’m getting prodded, so are you!”

Morrison sighed.  “Fine.” Even the kid was nagging him, now.  Moon caught up, they made it to the to the landing pad.  “Didn’t I give you a tie?” Moon nodded and pulled it from his bag, and Morrison turned him around.  “Hold still.” Morrison tied the tie quickly, adjusted his collar, and clapped his shoulder. “Tuck that shirt in.”  Morrison then pointed to the passenger seat. “And in.”

“Is Lena driving?” Moon asked as Morrison held out his hand, bracing Angela as she stepped into the car.

“It’s a short trip, and I’m perfectly capable of driving,” she grinned.  “Seatbelt.” 

Moon clicked everything together and put his bag at his feet, then opened his lunch bag.  There was a sandwich wrapped in paper, some hashbrowns and a juice box. Morrison handed him a folder.  “Trip’s about fifteen minutes, eat up. And this? This is important. You don’t exist.” Moon looked to him.  “There’s an ID and a file in there, read it.”

Moon opened it.  There was a medical report, a receipt, a schedule reminder, and an ID for one ‘Yuèliàng Huíshēng.’  It took him a few moments to read it. “Clever.” The name as ‘Moon’ and ‘Echo’ in Chinese.

“Genji thought of it.”  Genji would. “You’re just here for a checkup on a spinal injury.  Reggie Lindt, your doctor, you’ve only met him once. Got it?” Moon nodded at him and tucked the ID in a slot in his bag.  Morrison slapped the door twice and backed away. “Behave!” he shouted over the engines.

“It’s a short trip, eat up!” Angela urged him.  “Reggie’s very nice, we’ve worked together several times.”  Moon eagerly devoured his hash brown patties. He tried to see as much of the water as he could as they passed over the bay, and as he was drinking the last of his juice box they landed.  “Now, remember your cover story, OK?”

“Should I not speak English?” Moon asked.

“Well, my Mandarin isn’t very good,” Angela said in thought.  “Let’s just stick with you’re a patient of mine seeing a spine specialist for a second opinion, OK?”  Moon nodded and tried to roll his sleeves up. “Here, let me.” She quickly flipped and rolled Moon’s sleeves, leaving a bit of the cuff showing like Jesse did, and and gestured to the door.  “Let’s go see Reggie!”

Moon grabbed his bag and hopped out, catching himself before he fell.  She led him through the roof parking lobby and into the building, and Moon rocked on his feet as they took the elevator down to the fiftieth floor.  “Remember, ‘Yuèliàng, he would nag you to behave.”

“Behave.  Got it.” They found Reggie’s office and entered after knocking.  “Reggie.” 

Angela stepped in and gave a friendly hug to man in a shirt so dark Moon didn’t know if it was blue or black at first.  “Angie, nice to see you! Hello, Yuèliàng.” Reggie Lindt was of average height, with dark hair and eyes and a fine smile.  “It’s good to see you!” His voice was cheerful and very pleasant.

Moon blushed and took a deep breath.  “I, it, it’s OK, I can go now.” Moon turned and went to leave, and Reggie raised an eyebrow as Angie sighed and turned Moon around by his shoulder.  “Hello.”

“Excuse him.  We need his spine examined, please.”  Angela sighed inwardly at Moon’s blushing face.  “Kid’s just shy, c’mon.”

“Sure, right this way.”  Dr. Lindt led them to the examination room, and he gestured to a small screened area.  “Gown, please.”

“At least there’s no gorilla this time,” Moon muttered as he put his bag down.  He left his leggings on and stripped everything else, pulling the gown on. It took him a moment to get the tie off, and he dropped everything in a pile on the bench.  “OK. Ready.” His feet were cold on the tile and he stared at the table. 

Angela put a hand on his shoulder and Moon sat down, knees to his chin as usual.  She hooked the modified reader to Moon’s dataport and Reggie started the computer.  “I read through the files last night and all morning, and I think I’ve got a grip on what’s going on.”  Reggie clicked a few buttons and scrolled to a setting. “On the surface it looks like a new device following Genji’s basic design.  It’s using the modifications for Vermilion’s spine, with some strange modification to compact it.”

“I saw the basic structure was the same.  What did you think of the disks in his T1-7?  I think this IS one of Vermilion’s spines, the second one.  Do you see the serial number?”

“Can I have my datapad?” Moon asked.  He wasn’t sure he liked hearing a part of someone else’s body was inside him now.  “I’d like to read while you guys poke inside me.” Angela handed Moon his datapad and headphones and he loaded the second Wizard of Oz book.  The Queen of the Field Mice had just allowed the Scarecrow to take twelve of her mice with him with Angela tapped on his shoulder.

“Moon?  Are you there?”  Moon looked up, startled.  “Sorry to disturb your reading,” she said with a smile, “but we’re almost done.  We need you to teleport while hooked up.”

“Um, I can do that.”

“What’s the shortest distance you can teleport?” Reggie asked, and Moon thought.

“Um, about twenty feet.”  Reggie and Angela looked at the cord, barely eight feet.

“We’ll just make it a remote device.”  Reggie rooted through his supplies and pulled out some tools.  Angela disconnected the reader and pried off the casing, and Reggie modified it.  They spoke back and forth as they discussed their options, the easy conversation of two people who had repaired equipment in the field together.

“OK, let me just apply the remote,” he said to himself as he soldered something together quickly.  “There, that should work. We can use the hallway, c’mon.”

Angela used some medical tape to secure the reader and helped Moon off the table.  “OK, so, just, you know, tesser?”

Before leaving the office Reggie fiddled with some devices.  “Just turning the cameras off. Yeah, from my office door to the wall.  It’s about thirty feet, you should be fine. Don’t hit the wall, everything was just painted.”  He clapped Moon’s shoulder, and Moon concentrated. Moon was suddenly down the hall, and Reggie pulled back, startled.  “Whoa.”

“Good?  Was that good?” Moon asked, wobbling a little.  “Want me to come back?” Reggie nodded at him, and Moon took a few steps back.  “Incoming!” Moon returned, and wobbled a little. Reggie leaned forward and caught him, and Moon sunk into his arms.  “Gonna sleep now.” His eyes were unfocused and his speech slurred.

“Yeah, you do that.”  When Moon slumped forward Reggie bent down and scooped him up, then managed to slung him partially over his shoulder.  “Door, please?” Moon wasn’t sleeping, but rather winded.

“We can just put him anywhere, honestly.  He’ll sleep on his feet if you let him.” Angela sighed as she pulled the reader from Moon’s back.  “It was annoying but endearing before, but very worrying now.” Reggie got Moon on the examination table and Angela covered him up.  Reggie started to access the datareader. “I’ll order us some lunch.”

 

\---

 

Moon was working on his third order of papas asada while Reggie and Angela consulted with Winston over VisCom.  They babbled about quantum properties this and mitochondrial DNA that and that’s my papas asada eat your own, OK?  Moon didn’t really pay attention. He drank some of Angela’s diet soda when she wasn’t looking and pulled a plate of kebabs and prawns towards him.

“Hey, buddy, those are my fried prawns!” Reggie protested, and when he reached for them Moon pulled them closer.

“You’re the one who wanted the teleports, Reggie.”  Moon quickly downed two as Reggie shook his head. 

“Well, we got a lot of good information today,” Winston said from the Rock.  “I do believe we can set up a surgical plan.” He was eating his own lunch, a large salad and a pineapple.  He took a bite out of the citrus and wiped his chin. “What supplies do you need? I can have replacements made up and shipped in less than a week.”

“I can actually do the surgery there,” Reggie said, and Moon snapped his head up.

“What, wait, who the what?” he asked and finished his kebab.

“Weren’t you listening, no, it’s fine,” Angela said softly.  “We asked a lot of you without thinking of fortifying you first.  Reggie can remove the damaged and low energy discs and replace them with repaired and charged discs.  It will help with your low energy, and your sleeping disorder.”

“It’s not a disorder.  I just like sleeping.” Moon shoved more potato in his mouth.  “I like the new hands, Winston. Forks are easy now.”

Winston nodded at the camera.  “That’s great. Now, let’s see, Thursday.  I can have the supplies Thursday. Would you like to visit, Reggie, or should we bring Moon back?”

“I’d rather take my supplies there.”  He fished a prawn from Moon’s plate, seeing as how they were his to begin with.  “I dislike moving patients after something like that.”

“So, how’s this going to work?  You removing my spine or what?” Moon reached for Angela’s diet soda again and she slapped his hand away.

“Drink your own soda, it’s real, you need the sugar and calories,” she scolded.

“Angela Ziegler, I have you on tape telling someone they need to drink real soda,” Reggie laughed, and Winston tapped something.

“Recorded and sent.”

Angela slapped the table.  “Don’t you dare!” she scolded, and instantly her phone started to buzz.  “Let’s see, Hana, and Rubio, and, oh, Jack, you too? Winston, you’re horrible!”  She turned her phone upside down as the cheeky comments kept coming.

“So, Thursday,” Reggie said, and Moon looked up.  “It’s a simple procedure, I’ve done it to Vermilion several times.  The man does not take care of his spine. Genji’s needed three replacements, and Sendai a single disc.  It’s something I’m very capable of, and with Angela as my aide, we’ll be done easily. Do you want to know about the procedure?  Angie tells me you’re quite knowledgeable about some things.”

“Well, you’ve got two options here,” Moon said as he ate the last kebab.  “You can go from the front, through the scar here,” he said as he tapped his abdomen, “or you can get straight to the point through the back like Naomi did.  There’s, like, a panel back there.” He finished his soda and leaned back.

“We’d have to go through scar tissue, and that’s a lot of surface to open,” Angela said gently.  Moon shrugged and popped open a third soda. “Reggie?”

“I’ll go over the scans again, just to be sure.”

 

\---

 

Moon slept on the way home, of course, and had to be shaken awake.  Morrison ended up half carrying, half walking him to his room, and pulled his boots, sweater vest, and tie off.  He loosened his belt and buttons, covered him up, and turned off the lights. Angela was smirking at him from the door.  “What?”

“I thought you didn’t like kids, yet, there you are, putting one to bed.”

“I have to do that for a drunken McCree at least once a month,” Morrison scoffed, and led Angela out of Moon’s room.  He paused, though, and looked back . Angela tugged on his sleeve. “Just making sure the light was off.” ‘And the kid still breathing,’ he added to himself.  He wondered if Angela could read his mind when she smiled at him.


	13. The Doctor’s Visit Doesn’t Go Well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moon gets checked out by a spine specialist, Reggie Lindt. The visit does not goes well.

August 11, 2080, Sunday, Late Morning

Moon had been sitting, his back to Mei’s side, reading his datapad while the TV streamed one of Mei’s Chinese soap operas, “The Tale of Great Detective He BaoGang.”  Morrison was reading quietly in the armchair, skimming the news for keywords as usual, looking for clues. Jesse slipped into the room.

“TV open?” he asked and looked inside.  “Ah, I’ll check back later. Enjoy your show!”  He gave a soft strum of his guitar and Moon perked up.

“What is that?” Moon asked as he climbed over the back of the sofa.  He then climbed to the back of Morrison’s chair, despite his protests, and crouched there.  “Jesse, you can do that?” Jesse laughed as Morrison stood up, and the armchair tipped backwards.  Moon gave an undignified screech as it toppled, and he popped back to his feet. “I’m still functioning!”

“Do NOT climb on the furniture like that!” Morrison snapped.  “You’re not a monkey!”

“But you can DO that?” Moon asked, pointed to the guitar.

Morrison tapped Moon’s shoulder and pointed to the chair.  “Pick the chair up, Moon.” Moon struggled for a few moments and put the chair back upright.  “And the cushions.”

“But I didn’t think it was real!” Moon said as he put the cushion and afghan back on the chair.

“It’s a guitar,” Morrison said.  “Jesse plays them all the time. Why wouldn’t they be real?”  He sat down and picked his datapad back up.

“Because they were in the movie.”  Jesse ruffled Moon’s hair and Moon shoved his arm away.  “And you can do that?”

“Yeah, sure, c’mon, I think I got a nylon in your size.”  He slung the guitar on his back and waved Moon after him.

“Socialising him may be a bit harder than we thought,” Morrison said as he sat down.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Mei said as she sat down.  “He’s very sweet.”

Morrison shook his head.  “He’s just trying to be what we want him to be.  It’s a survival tactic.” He sighed and continued reading the newspaper, skimming for keywords.  “How did he not know guitars existed?”

“Hanzo said he didn’t think the moon was real,” Mei answered.  Morrison sighed and rubbed his temple. Moon had a strange scope of knowledge.  Part of it included a very comprehensive grasp of medical equipment, but he didn’t know what an ocean was.  Luckily he liked reading and his knowledge base was growing quickly.

  
  


“Let’s see, here, try this one.”  Jesse handed Moon a guitar. “Well, that fits.”  The tiny Ibanez was a gag gift a few years ago, not fit for Jesse’s broad frame, but Moon held it well enough.  “Strings, strings,” he muttered as he rooted through his desk. “Nylon strings.”

Jesse’s room was actually quite sleek.  He had glowing constellations on his ceiling, a vintage serape hanging on his wall and a few guitars both in stands and on the wall, and his desk was tidy.  His gun safe looked like an old fashioned bank safe. Moon wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but they modern furniture wasn’t it. And he wasn’t expecting the Lúcio bedsheets.  Jesse caught him staring and laughed. “Yeah, yeah, I know, but Lúcio gave them to me and I felt bad not using them. Give ‘em a feel, they’re nice.” 

Moon rubbed them against his upper arm and nodded.  “Angie workin’ on your nerves, kid?” Jesse asked as he watched.

“Hn?”  Moon smoothed the bedding down.  Jesse tapped his hand, and Moon understood.  “Nerves, right. She said she has to wait until she gets some skin grown.  She doesn’t want to do anything until Winston understands exactly what she needs to do.”

Jesse nodded and found the strings.  “Yeah, she’s like that. Doesn’t like a lot of risks.”

Moon nodded and watched Jesse string and tune the guitar.  “I, you know, just wanna feel stuff. I mean, I can feel the glove when it’s on, but I can’t feel when it’s off.  I have to use my wrists and stuff. To feel stuff.” Jesse gave a few chords and adjusted a key. “I shouldn’t complain, though, I mean, it’s only fingers.”

“Kid, you got every right to complain.  Now, c’mon, let’s go over the basics.” Jesse handed Moon the guitar and picked up his favorite.

 

\---

 

“And how are you today?” Zenyatta asked as he sat at the table.  Moon was sitting with the soles of his feet together, knees almost flat against the bench, hands on said knees, staring at the shogi board.  He liked this game, and used his cheat sheet to remind him how the rook moved.

“Eh, it goes.”  He slid his rook and sat back.

“Jesse said you felt upset that you felt bad?”  Zenyatta examined the board and tapped a finger on the table in thought.  

“Nark.”  Zenyatta moved his horse, and Moon put his cheeks in his hands.  “He said I could complain about missing fingers when he lost an entire hand.”  He suddenly noticed Zenyatta’s pawn was about to be promoted, and he thought about how to get his bishop there.  “But he’s lost an entire arm, almost. And Genji? You know.”

“You can drown in a few inches of water as easily as three feet,” Zenyatta said.  He slipped his rook down the field and Moon hummed.

“Thought you would move your pawn.”  Moon held his finger over the board, pondering.

“Take your time.”

After most of a minute Moon decided to move his bishop.  “I like you, you don’t make me talk a lot. Morrison’s always asking questions.”  Zenyatta nodded. “Hey, do you know a Vermilion? It turns out he’s got a spine based on Genji’s, and mine is based on his.”

“I know of a name, but the one I know is an omnic in France.”  Zenyatta moved his pawn and flipped the token, and Moon quickly slid his bishop, taking Zenyatta’s new token.  Zenyatta then moved a dragon and took Moon’s bishop. “You are a young player, friend, you will learn in time.”

“Some days I feel like I don’t know anything.”  Moon chewed on his lip; he had been counting on that bishop.  “Horses and dragons are opposites,” he muttered as he checked the cheat sheet.  

“But they work well together, watching each other’s backs,” Zenyatta mused.  “It takes a variety of souls to make a game work.” Moon shifted his pawn to the left and put it back. 

“Sorry, forward only, forward only.”

“Going forward is always good advice.”  Zenyatta nodded. Moon shifted a different pawn forward, and Zenyatta moved one of his own.  “Sometimes we feel we are not moving, but we are. And sometimes you fall back. But the key is to do your best.”  Moon nodded and moved another pawn forward. Zenyatta captured it and Moon hummed again.

“My best isn’t very good.”  

Zenyatta shook his head and Moon felt like he was staring into his eyes.  “You’re young, still, and have much to learn. There is no shame in that.”  Moon nodded and put a finger on his rook. “If you move that piece it puts you in check.”  Moon leaned back, and examined the board. “Sometime it helps to see things in different eyes.”  Zenyatta then took all of his pieces and rotated them ninety degrees, and Moon paused. “So you can read them easier.”

“Oh.”  Moon nodded.  “Thank - OH.” Moon moved a pawn bishop one space.

“Very good, child!”  Zenyatta’s voice was bright.  “Experience and perspective are very important tools, aren’t they?”  Moon nodded and waited for Zenyatta’s next move.

 

\---

 

August 15, 2080, Thursday, Early morning

Morrison was shaking Moon awake again.  “C’mon, lazy bones, up.”

Moon rolled again and pulled his comforter over his head.  “Imotalazy,” Moon slurred. “Power supply. Spine. Bread.”

“It’s nine in the morning, you’ve got an appointment with Reggie in an hour.  Up.” Morrison thought he was generous, letting the kid sleep in so late. Morrison pulled out some clothes for him and lay them on his desk, and Moon sat up with a whine.  “Are you spliced with a cat or something? You sleep all day and make the weirdest noises.” Moon responded with another strangled yawn. “Get ready. You’ll need a real breakfast today.”  Moon nodded and shuffled to his bathroom.

  
  
  


The week had gone by quickly enough.  The antibiotics Reggie had given him didn’t sit well in his stomach at first, but Angela had given him some capsules with yeast in it, and that seemed to help.  Reinhardt was making sure he ate breakfast, rolls with jam and honey, an egg, along with two types of cheese. He was going to find a cheese the boy liked! So far Moon prefered the goat cheese with the fruit in it, and Reinhardt was taking notes.

“Don’t worry, mouse,” he grinned, “we’ll make you big and strong!”  Moon nodded as he finished his hot cocoa. So far he liked Reinhardt's breakfast better than Hanzo’s, but mainly it was the jam and honey on bread.

“C’mon kid, you ready?”  Morrison waved at him from the door.  “Let’s get a move on.” Moon nodded and grabbed one last role and shoved it in his mouth.  He downed it with water, collected his bag and followed Morrison to the launchpad.

“Isn’t Dr. Ziegler coming?” he asked as Morrison let him use his arm to balance himself and enter the hovercar.

“Angela’s got some prep work for tomorrow, it’s just you and me, kid.”

“And the fact you didn’t get your ports checked out.”  Moon stared straight ahead as Morrison sat down, and the older man turned and glared at him.

“Is Angela putting you up to this?” he asked, and Moon stared straight ahead.  “Kid?”

“Winston’s really concerned and he’s been giving me oranges dipped in chocolate.  They’re really good!” Moon suddenly gushed.

“You’ll do just about anything for food, won’t you?” Morrison asked as he buckled up.  “Seatbelt.” Moon stared straight ahead. “I’m not going to bribe you. It’s regulation.  Nagging me about my ports is not regulation.” Moon sighed and pulled his seatbelt on. “Thank you.”

Morrison piloted sharper and quicker than Angela did, rotating quickly as the hovercar lifted instead of moving up and around the building, and he aimed straight for the building Reggie worked out of rather than curve a bit.  Moon watched the water below, still amazed at everything.

“So,” Morrison said softly, “I get the feeling you think I don’t like you.”  Moon blushed a little. “That’s not true.” Moon said nothing and continued to look out he window.

“It’s just that I scared you and shot Lena and got a weird thing in my back, I know,” Moon said offhandedly.  Spain raced up to meet them and Morrison slowed down. “You’ve got responsibilities.” Morrison gave a soft scoffing sound.  “And Genji said you’re just a cranky old man.”

“He would.”  Morrison grinned suddenly.  “I don’t dislike you, kid. But it did annoy me when you slept in the gun range.  And made me wonder why.” Moon shrugged. “Why sleep in weird places?”

“It’s too quiet in my room.”  Morrison nodded and merged into the hovercar lanes.  

“I get that.  I’m certain there’s a white noise machine somewhere you can have.”  Morrison guided the hovercar to the medical building and landed, and reached into the glovebox.  He changed his tactical visor for a pair of aviator style sunglasses and pulled on an ancient flat cap.

“What the hell is that?” Moon asked and Morrison handed him a hat.  “No, thanks.”

“Either their the hat or dye your hair, kid.  I’m dead and you don’t exist.” Moon wrapped the white portion of his hair into a bun then wrapped the black halo of hair around it, and tied it off with a band and pulled a beanie from his bag.  “Good trick. Where’s the hat from?”

“It was Hanzo’s idea, he showed me how.”  Moon let the black part far down under the hat, tucking the white part inside.  “Genji gave me the beanie.”

Morrison caught Moon as he stumbled out of the hovercar and they went to the elevators.  “He probably knit it himself. Whoa, there, examine it later, OK?” Moon had tried to take the hat off.  “Remember, you’re my niece’s kid, got it?”

“Yeah, gramps, got it.”  Morrison glared at him. “Sorry, Wàigōng.”  

“Is that better?” Morrison asked with a sideways glance.

“It means grandpa.”

“Uncle.”

“Grandpa.”  Morrison opened his mouth.  “Wait, stop. You’re my mom’s dad?”

“Your mother’s uncle.  Youth mother and I, wait, let me think.  Your mother is my sister’s daughter.”

A nurse had wandered by.  “Large family?” she asked with a grin.

“My nephew can’t remember the English names of family members,” Morrison said with a shrug.  “C’mon, kid, time for your checkup.

Moon sulked.  “ Wǒ bùxiǎng yào .”  ‘I don’t want to.’

“Wo boo shang yes, young man.”  Morrison nodded at the woman and scooped his arm around Moon and led him down the hall.  Morrison was slightly distracted as they entered Reggie’s office. Once the door was locked he swapped to his visor and cycled through settings.  “I should have been alerted to anyone in the hall.”

“Sir!  This is a secure facility.”  Reggie saluted and pulled out a datapad.  “I don’t see anyone in the hall. This should be a secured floor.”  Morrison was quickly on the coms.

“We’ll continue, but with caution.”  Morrison pulled a chair and tilted it against the doorknob.  “And quickly.” Moon had started unbuttoning his shirt as he followed Reggie and Morrison to the examination room.

Reggie waved him to the table immediately.  “Don’t bother with the robe, I just need to check your port and take a blood test.  Strike-Commander, the test? Three mililiter, the purple bottle?” Morrison nodded and quickly pulled the supplies out and Moon held his left arm out.

“You left handed?” Morrison asked suddenly.  “I’ve seen you use both.”

“Well, the right hand works better, but I’m left handed.”  Morrison took Moon’s right arm and swabbed his elbow while Reggie connected the reader to Moon’s back.  “A little lower, on the wrist. The elbow never works.” Morrison quickly took the blood sample and pressed a cotton ball to Moon’s wrist.

“OK, the readings are stable.  We’re good to go tomorrow.” Reggie gestured to some mobile cases.  “There’s the gear I need. If there’s someone who is here who shouldn’t be,” he said quietly as he stashed the blood sample in his gear, “I should leave with you.”  The cases had wheels on them, and Reggie rolled them to his office. Morrison pulled him back and listened.

“Is there another exit?” he asked quietly, and Reggie nodded.  He led them to the back and pressed a panel on the wall, opening a sliding panel.  It led to some emergency stairs, and they instantly started going down. Finally they spotted a window.  “Tracer, you read?” The use of her codename spooked Moon. 

“I’m here, mates!” she said cheerfully.  “Blowing the window.” Morrison instantly pulled Moon into his leather jacket jacket while Reggie stepped up a few steps.  There was a series of puffs and a crack, and the window was yanked from the wall. “Come on in, gents!”

Morrison nodded and gave a single command.  Winston was in charge Overwatch as a whole, but Morrison commanded in the field.  “Gear.” Brigitte had looped a safety harness on and threw a small hook, dragging herself to the window, and Reggie quickly laced the cables to the medical equipment.  Reggie quickly followed, and they could hear a loud crashing noise outside.

“We’re taking fire!”  Lena’s voice was stable but a little high pitched.  “Unknown parties!”

“Go, I’ve got Moon!  C’mon, kid!” Morrison all but scooped Moon up and started down the steps.  “Passenger secured?”

“Secured, sir!  Pulling away!” Morrison had already pulled Moon down two flights.  “Thirtieth floor!” Morrison finally pulled Moon into a fireman’s carry and kicked open a door.  Moon was too nervous to protest and let himself be carried, and Morrison burst through an office and into the hall.

Morrison put Moon down, swapped to his aviator glasses, and entered the main hall.  “Don’t let go. We’re blending in.” He gripped Moon’s hand like a protective grandfather and they followed the crowd down the main steps.  Moon slung himself in Morrison’s armpit and they kept going.

They exited to the street and Morrison took stock, Moon still under his arm.  He found a quiet spot near the wall and pressed them into it, and he tapped his glasses and swore softly.  They didn't have the full functions of his visor. “C’mon, we’re moving.”

Morrison wanted to stop and direct traffic, take stock, see who needed medical aid, but he couldn’t let Moon fall into the hands of terrorists.  They kept moving and changing direction, and Morrison suddenly shoved Moon down.

The wall above them exploded, and Morrison covered Moon with his body.  “Stay down,” he hissed. “It was just debris. We’re good.” Morrison hauled him up and they took refuge in a stairwell, and Morrison had time to swap his glasses for his visor.  “I need news, people.”

“Reports are scattered.  Looks like there’s someone setting something up on the Perez-Rodríguez Energy Building on Fifth and Calle Rojas.”  Morrison swore softly; they were standing right under the building. “I have visual on Reaper.” Moon froze and Morrison pressed himself over Moon’s form, trying to protect him from the last of the crumbling plaster.  “Visual on Sunfox.”

Sunfox, the name a figure they had seen, but had little to no information on.  A green and gray form suddenly dropped by them. “Hey, boss.”

“Genji!” Morrison hissed.  “What’s going on?”

“They’ve got a computer array up there, looks like they’re trying to crash a satellite.  It’s already moving south and I can’t get close, Sombra’s got my number today.” He lifted his right arm and his fingers spasmed.  “We got the shutdown codes, though. But we can’t get close.”

“I can get close,” Moon said, and Morrison quickly cut him off.  “I’m serious! I can get close and get in and hit the button and get out before they get me.  I had a pretty good breakfast today, Reinhardt was there, and I’ve got three, four tessers in me.”  

Morrison shook his head.  “Absolutely not.” 

“Or, like, two and a really good one,” Moon continued.  He gave a sigh and looked Morrison in the visor, the first time he made any type of eye contact.  “Féng Yì.”

Fong Ee?  “What was that?” Morrison asked as he cycled settings on his visor.

“My name.  It’s Féng Yì.  Hound thought he made me forget it, but he didn’t.  I’m Féng Yì.” Morrison and Genji stared at him, seeing how scared and calm he was.  “What’s the satellite?”

“Russian weapon.”  Genji’s voice was metallic and level.  “We think it’s a laser, powerful enough to gouge a hole a mile deep.”  Genji turned to Morrison. “He’s unknown to Sombra. She can track your visor, my body, Lena’s ship.  I get the kid close, he gets in, he plugs in the code, he gets out, forty seconds tops.”

“No.”  Morrison was firm.  “He’s not trained and he’s too young.  We’re not making child soldiers.” They could see a beam of light glow warmly on the buildings beside them then fade.  

“I’ve got the satellite path, Strike Commander, their target is Numbani,” Lena’s voice peeped from Genji’s communicator.  “We’ve got six minutes.”

Morrison gave the sigh of the damned.  “You got a spare armor pack, Tracer?” She responded with an affirmative.  “Drop it at our location, along with my weapons pack.”

“If you say so!”  A few moments later her sporty hovercar breezed by, dropping a small package that Genji caught on the second bounce.  Morrison pulled Moon’s jacket off and he and Genji quickly helped him into the armor.

Genji held up a small portable drive.  ”Take this.” He pressed the thumb drive into Moon’s hand.  “Turn off the control datapad, it’s got a green trim, plug this in, turn it on.  When the prompts pop up, hit yes, yes, no, yes. Should take under a minute. Got it?”

Moon nodded quickly.  “Yes, yes, no, yes.” Genji kicked the door in and they made it to elevator.  “We’re going up until about the fiftieth floor, after that Sombra knows we’re there.  You’ll have to climb the last ten.” Moon nodded. 

“What will you guys be doing?”

“We’re going up the other steps, and we’ll distract Reaper and whoever the golden boy is.”  Morrison zipped his jacket and slung a lightweight pulse rifle over his shoulder. “Go time, people.”  The elevator ride was tense, and Moon took a deep breath. “Remember, wait for us to draw fire. Get in, get the pad, enter the code, and tesser out to a roof.  Tracer will find you and pick you up.” Moon nodded, the elevator dinged, and Morrison pressed a small device into Moon’s hands. “Take the west stairs, press that under the knob, turn it clockwise and take cover.  WAIT FOR US TO ENGAGE. Tesser in, use the drive, tesser out. Don’t wait for us. Go with Tracer.”

“Clockwise, got it.”  Moon took off and Morrison watched him for a few seconds, then followed Genji.

Moon didn’t know how out of shape he was.  He was skinny and wirey, but not really built for endurance.  His breakfast felt like it had been a long time ago, and he wondered if Morrison knew he lied about having that many tessers in him.  Still, the chance to prove he wasn’t just some week little kid appealed to him, to prove he wasn’t just a victim.

He finally reached the top and took several gulping breaths, the leaned against the door, listening.  After most of a minute he could hear Morrison shouting how they were engaged in combat, and Moon set and activated the explosive.


	14. Reaper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaper appears.

The device shattered the doorknob and Moon peeked out on the roof.  He could see Reaper, actually see him with working eyes, spotting his back as he fired at Morrison.  Genji pressed forward, but Reaper ghosted away. That was the sound Moon had feared, the scrape and whisper of sand against nothing, and the guttural voice that went with it.

Moon spotted the computer station and Genji spotted him, and the ninja quickly took after the man guarding it.  Moon tessered under the table, dizzy and breathless, and Genji slid down a datapad. Moon held the button down to reset it.

“C’mon, c’mon,” he hissed as the datapad powered down.  He plugged the thumb drive in and powered it up. He could hear voices and he scrambled further under the table.  He could hear shots and screams, and he focused himself like Hanzo showed him.

A familiar voice crept through the air.  “I’ve taken care of our distractions. And you’re sure the satellite’s ready?”

“Yes, it will be ready.”  Moon carefully lowered the volume and pushed himself back, trying to stay in the shadow and out of sight.  “Everything is in position, sir, all we need to do is break the last lockout code.” The voices continued to talk as Moon hit the first yes.  They walked up, moved something on the table, and swore quietly. “Who’s been messing with my gear? That omnic stole the control pad!” Moon hit the second yes once it popped up.

“You’re sloppy.”  Moon hit ‘no’ and nervously tapped the side of the datapad, and something grabbed his ankle.  He gave a soft yelp and clutched the datapad to his chest. “Now, what have we here?” Moon hit yes and flung the datapad back under the table.  Reaper dragged Moon up and wasted no time in walking to the edge of the roof, ready to throw him off just like he did Genji only moments ago. “I thought I already killed you.  Talk. Why are you here?”

“I don’t know what going on!” Moon said quickly.  “I was here and and things blew up!” Reaper held him over the edge by his neck and continued to glare at him.  

Reaper felt Moon struggle in his grip, but Moon couldn't teleport away while restrained and panicking.  “Keep talking,” Reaper hissed at him.

Moon’s mind went blank and his stomach and lungs bottomed out.  “I just wanted some potatoes! Last time I had potatoes!” That seemed like a reasonable conversation at that particular point in time.  “Who doesn’t like potatoes?”

Reaper unbuttoned Moon’s jacket and gripped the neck of his borrowed chestplate to examine it.  “Oh, Yì, you’ve done great things for Hound and Talon.” He had never once said his name right, pronouncing it YEE.  Reaper’s fingers flexed as he adjusted his grip on Moon’s neck, then tapped Moon’s temple near his eyes. “We got so much information thanks to you.”

“No, you didn’t!” Moon insisted.  “I didn’t tell them anything! They changed my eyes!”  Reaper shook his head. “I fried the hard drive! Did what he told me to!”

Reaper’s fingers flexed again, gripping tighter, and Moon started to see white dots float in front of him.  “And you did what I told you to do, too, didn’t you?” Moon gripped at Reaper’s wrist and thumb, trying to breathe.  Reaper then pulled out a shotgun and shot Moon in the chest, shattering his armor, and flung him off the building. “Finish it, Faris.”

“I can’t, he destroyed the datapad!”

“Then take what you can, we’re leaving.”  Reaper clicked his communicator. “Sombra, extraction.”  Reaper picked up main computer and watched the news hovercopter land several yards away.  He wasted four seconds looking back to the ledge he had just tossed Moon off of, and hustled Faris into the hovercopter.


	15. Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moon's health isn't the only thing in recovery.

Morrison kept a hand on Moon’s forehead as he woke up.  “Stay still, Féng.” Moon managed to open his eyes, and realized he was looking up at Genji and Morrison.  “We’re not sure how badly you’re hurt.”

“I still function,” he hissed, and struggled to breathe.  “Hey, um, Commander? I, um, my vision’s, um, it’s, um, going.”

“Your cybernetics are overloaded, Moon,” Genji said softly.  “We’ll take care of you, don’t worry.” Genji reached down and took Moon’s hand.  “Not many people can say they got a face full of Reaper and survived. You were hard to catch!”  

“Did we win?” Moon asked, or tried to as he faded away.

 

\---

 

Jesse wandered into Morrison’s office, fresh from reconnaissance, still in his dark clothes and without his hat or serape.  “What’s up, Boss?” Jesse asked, and slowly pulled a cigarillo out. “Where’s your visor?” Morrison was using a Braille board to check his reports.

“Whoever that golden man is, he shattered it.  No smoking.” Jesse made the noise of putting his cigarillos away, one still in his mouth.

“How’s Moon?  Genji said he got a face full of Reaper.”  ‘Face full of Reaper’ was surprisingly fun to say, and it helped alleviate some of his worry, but only some.

“Yeah, Reyes hit him with a low-level blast and tossed him off of the roof.  But he said he got information from him. Winston thinks my visor problems are from a virus Féng passed on when he grabbed it.  In infected my port, and I would have been feeding them info all month if Féng hadn’t bent the port. There’s no telling how much information I leaked.”

“Sounds like Sombra’s work.  Poor kid. I’m gonna go see him.”

Morrison nodded.  “Good, he actually likes you.”

Jesse made no comment.  “Right. On my way. Wait, Féng?”

“Féng Yì.  Kid’s real name.”

Jesse grinned and his cigarello rolled to the other side of his mouth.  “Well, maybe he likes you more than you think, boss man. Oh, and Angela wants you in the med wing, stat.  I’m supposed to carry you if I have too. Hanzo’ll help.” Morrison sighed and stood up, gripping his ribs.  “C’mon, boss.”

They walked to the medical wing, Jesse occasionally nudging Morrison or tugging his sleeve when he wavered too far off course.  They stepped inside and Angela walked up to them. “Hey, doc,” Jesse said for Morrison’s benefit. “How is he?” Jesse asked quietly, and saw movement from the recovery bed.  “Hey, Moon, how are you?”

“He needs rest,” Angela insisted.  “Keep your visit short.” Her voice was clipped but Jesse knew it wasn’t rudeness aimed at him.  He nodded and Angela swiped the unlit cigarillo from his lips as he walked by, then started to chew Morrison out for not seeking treatment earlier.

Jesse sat down at Moon’s bedside and looked him over.  “Well, I can honestly say I’ve seen worse.” Moon’s chest was a single mottled bruise with massive lacerations, and the vague imprint of a hand was on his neck.  Angela had given him socks for his hands, and Jesse could see that dark circles under his eyes, covered by his winking eyes sleep mask. Lena’s armor, Reaper’s apathy towards him, and whatever Moira did to him were the only reason he was alive.

“Same,” he said quietly.  “to others, though, this is about as bad as I’ve ever been.”  Moon took a deep breath and winced, and Jesse placed a hand on his shoulder.  “Winston said I can pick my new eye color, he might make it so I can swap it around.   My entire system fried.”

Jesse suddenly realised Moon wasn’t just propped up on pillows to breathe, but to allow a strange device to be attached to his dataport and sensors on his collarbone.  Jesse gave his shoulder a gentle pat. “That’d be cool. Tie them to your emotions, let people know how you feel, kid.”

“Ha.  That’s me laughing.  I can’t laugh right now.  Dr. Ziegler said I’m lucky I still have lungs.  But I’m getting new parts for my spine. Gotta replace the batteries.”  Moon flailed for his straw and Jesse adjusted it for him.

“Hey, kid?  I’m glad you’re gonna be OK.  You’re with Angie, she’ll take good care of you.  Once she clears you, I’m getting you some sopapillas, special order.”  Moon smiled in Jesse’s basic direction and took another breath. “You just get some rest now, hear?  Oh, got something for ya. Hold yer hands out.” Jesse put a datapad in Moon’s palms. “Voice activated.  Saved your place in Wizard of Oz.”

“Thanks, Jesse.”  Moon could feel the datapad was in his hands, and the buttons with part of his what remained of his right thumb.  Jesse gently rubbed his hair, and Moon sighed and fell into a dark slumber.

 

\---

 

August 27, 2080, Tuesday, Time unsure

Moon wasn’t sure what was worse, the itching or the boredom.  Itching wasn’t even the right word, it was more like a dampness under his skin.  His eyes were replaced, again, and the new ones didn’t feel gritty or loose or tight.  Winston, Angela and Reggie did quality work.

From his understanding they had simply left him to sleep for almost two weeks.  His chest had healed down, Angela had given him skin grafts and altered the nerves in his hands and Reggie had done his spinal surgery.  While Moon was agitated by all of this happening while he slept, he was grateful he wasn’t awake for most of it. Still, he felt somewhat cheated by the lack of experience.  Was that normal?

“Hey.  Moon.” Moon ignored Genji for the moment.  “Moon Moon. Hey. Heeeey. Moon. Do you still want to be called Moon?”

“I guess?” Moon said quietly.  He looked at his hand, the new skin pale against his normally tan skin.  Angela said his skin tone would out even over time, since it was his own skin, to his normal color.  “I’ve been Moon for so long.”

“Yeah, but that’s what you’re called.  Do you want to use your name?” Moon put his hand down and looked at Genji.

“I, it’s weird.”  He wriggled his butt and Genji gently helped him sit back up.  “It’s like, there were so many of us. Up to November. And they all died.  Mike and Hotel were left, but, they, well, I’m the last of the Moons. If, if I don’t, I mean, I don’t want to forget them.  They don’t deserve that. So long as I’m Moon, they still exist.”

Genji didn’t know what to say, so he went with what he knew.  “We went through all sorts of data, all sorts of hints, all we know is the Lau family started this mess.  We don’t know where they took you, and we’re no closer to Naomi.” Genji picked up the next issue of his sentai manga.  “Done with four.” Moon hauled his glove back on, held his hand out and Genji handed it to him. 

Focusing on something cheerful sounded good right about now.  “Oh, hey, Dyna Pink is back!” Moon had spent all week reading, and he was getting better at it.  All yesterday Genji had lay next to him, battered old comics in hand, carefully and patiently going over comic books with him.  Wizard of Oz was fine and Moon had greatly enjoyed it, but “Team Prism Dynamite” and “Mask of the Windy Rider” were easier to read with the pictures.

“Hey, the new Windy Rider season starts next week.”

“Don’t cheat on me again!”  Genji had started reading the new manga while Moon was in his induced coma.  When he had awakened he was tired, too full of pain, drugs, and emotions to comprehend anything besides the fact he was filled with pain, drugs, and emotions.  He simply cried.

“I learned, I learned!  I’m a horrible manga husband who cheated on my, wait, you’re like, what,” Genji asked, and ignored Moon’s claim of being nineteen, “fifteen?  I’m twice your age. I’m a horrible cradle robber.”

“Yes, you are, you’re a horrible comic, um, what’s the word when you cheat on your wife?”

“You aren’t my wife,” Genji pointed out.  “I’m already fake married to Jesse. You can be my manga mistress.”

“Is this a conversation that needs adult supervision?” Angela asked as walked in.

“What do you call a person who cheats on their wife?” Moon asked.

“An adulterer?” she answered, one eyebrow up.

“Yeah, Genji’s a manga adulterer.”

“We’re not married!” Genji insisted.

“Thankfully!  You’re twice his age, Genji!”  Angela took a seat next to Moon and held her hand out.  He handed her the manga and she lay it on his legs, and held her hand out.  Moon kept handing her books, his datapad, his hand socks, even his pillow, and finally, he pulled off his gloves and put them in hers.  She put them on the pillow on his lap and he draped his braid in her hand. She stared at him, and Moon put his hands in hers. “Thank you.”  She examined his hands and then his eyes, and took his vitals. “Well, you’re recovering swiftly! Almost as fast as Jack does!”

“Do you think he had the same treatments?” Genji asked around a mouthful of gummy worms.

“No, this is something completely different.  Jack’s was a change in his biomolecular makeup, Moon’s is more like an artificial field that permeates him.  Jack’s can’t be turned off or affected by a power supply.” She tilted Moon’s head and nodded at him, then held her hand out to Genji.  He gave her a yellow and green worm, her favorite flavor combination, and she popped in in her mouth. “Now that your spine is working properly, Reggie will be here in a few minutes just to double check, your healing is improved.”

“Why doesn’t my spine do that?” Genji demanded.  “He’s based on me, right?”

“I’m based on Vermilion, who’s based on you.  That makes you my spine grampy. My  Jǐzhù  Yéyé.”  Genji scoffed at him.  “Who’s Vermilion?” Moon asked.  He had been curious but never managed to ask when he was with anyone who might know.

Angela chewed and finished her gummy worm.  “All I can say is that he comes when he’s called.  Everything else is classified.” She helped Moon pull his gloves back on, and adjusted them.  “Once Reggie gets you checked out, it’s time for your walk!”

 

\---

 

August 31, 2080, Saturday Morning

Moon was actually looking forward to his daily walks.  He would go to the kitchen and chat, or watch movies in the media room, or tai chi with Hanzo, Genji or Zenyatta.  Each time he went further and stayed out longer, longing to escape the bed, eagerly announcing he was escaping the medical bay.  At one point he even watched a documentary on military history with Morrison, just to get out of the medical wing. Today Hanzo had promised to take him sailing since the day was so nice.

He was getting up to leave when Morrison summoned Moon to his office via Athena, and Moon sighed.  “Sooner rather than later, please,” she added, and Moon made his way to Morrison’s office.

“Ah, on time for a change,” Morrison said and gestured to a seat.  “OK, we have to have a talk,” Morrison said and gestured to a chair.  “OK, Moon.”

“Hi,” Moon said with a shrug.  Why was Morrison nervous? It made Moon nervous and he twitched in his seat a little.

“Hello.”  Morrison steepled his fingers.  Why was this so hard? “OK, there comes a time in a man’s life when he, he becomes a man.”

“Sir?” Moon asked in confusion.

“A body changes,” he continued and Moon crossed his arms, understanding.

“I know,” he said with a dismissive shrug.

“You know?”

Moon nodded.  “I know.” Morrison sighed a silent prayer.  “Moira was good about teaching us about bodies and stuff.  She had a video and everything. So can we be done? Hanzo said he’d take me boating!”  Moon pointed to his boots, showing the non-marking, non-skid soles.

“Are you going to use this information to try and escape?”

“Maybe.”  Morrison waved him off.  “Later!”

  
  
  


“Moon, you have a history of trying to escape,” Hanzo pointed out.  “If I teach you to sail, will you try to escape the Rock?”

“Eventually,” Moon answered and Hanzo snorted a laugh.  “Everyone keeps asking me that.”

“We have basic pattern recognition.” Hanzo gave him a sideways glance.  “So, did you and the commander, talk, today?” he asked.

“I already know,” Moon said and rolled his eyes.  “Cheese and crackers you guys are weird about it.”

“Cheese and crackers?” Hanzo asked, one eyebrow lifted.

“Yeah, the guy on the radio said it.  Morrison said he wasn’t allowed to swear in front of me.  I’m not a baby. I’m twenty-two.”

“Sixteen,” Hanzo corrected automatically.  Moon just kept aging himself up! “What radio?”

“I was hanging out in Morrison’s office trying to sleep last night and some guy came on the radio and started to yell, and Morrison’s like, watch the language, Franklin, the kid’s in the room!  And this guy just keeps on swearing. Then he stops, and he’s all, are you glaring at me? And Morrison looks to me, and I’m all, yeah, he’s glaring. He wasn’t wearing his visor but you know how he knows where you are?  Yeah, so I just assumed he wanted me to say something so I did.” Hanzo listened to the rapidfire conversation. “And he just kinda goes, ‘cheese and crackers’ and quits swearing and Morrison booted me.”

“Taylor Franklin?” he asked carefully and Moon shrugged.  

“He somebody big?” Moon asked as the reached the boat.

“It’s not important.”  Moon balked at the life vest, then pulled it on when Hanzo pulled his on.  Hanzo adjusted it for him and pushed the boat from the pier. Moon noticed he wasn’t wearing his usual feet but rather some sporty feet with a textured sole, and while he didn’t say anything he saw the Hanzo noticed him staring.  

They had been on the water for some time when Hanzo moved the conversation along.  “So, it has come to our attention that you like Lúcio.”

“I think I’m allergic to him,” Moon admitted as Hanzo caught the wind.  “He makes me feel all funny.” He suddenly stopped and opened his eyes. “Wait.”

Hanzo nodded at him.  “Yes. Young men notice people.”

“But,” Moon said, slightly confused.  “He, and I?” 

Hanzo sighed softly.  “They didn’t cover homosexuality in your lessons?”

“No, they did, but I didn’t think I, I mean,” Moon babbled and switched to Mandarin.   _ “All she told us was that it existed.  She never told us what to DO with any of the information.” _

_ “Nothing until you’re eighteen,” _ Hanzo replied back in Mandarin.   _ “I’m sorry, that was rash of me.  But if you have any questions, I assure you, I have some answers.  The world is safer for us now, but there is still much hate and misinformation.” _

_ “You, um, you like guys?”  _ Mono asked, and Hanzo nodded. _  “How do you KNOW?” _

_ “How do you know when you’re gay?”  _ Hanzo asked for clarification and Moon nodded.  _  “When you feel like you want to get romantic with men.  Instead of women.” _

_ “Oh, that makes sense.”   _ Moon trailed his fingers in the water.   _ “Do you think Dr. Ziegler can make it so I know when my gloves touch water?  I want to touch things again.” _

_ ‘If she could, I would like to feel mud between my toes again.” _  Hanzo pushed on the rudder and they rotated back towards the island.   _ “I notice you never ask how we came to have our prosthetics.”   _

Moon shrugged.   _ “Stuff happens.”   _ He looked up.   _ “I had a pretty unnatural life, haven’t I?”   _ Hanzo nodded at him.   _ “It’s personal, too.  I’m still kinda mad about Morrison and everything.  He made me tell.” _

Hanzo gave a soft nod.   _ “And I know I broke in and scared him and blah to the blah cheese and crackers blah, wow, that does NOT flow in Mandarin does it?  He still tried to MRI me and he cracked my jaw. Still mad.” _

_ “If I may make a suggestion?”   _ Moon looked up at Hanzo,   _ “Your anger is your own and you have every right to be upset.  But, please, believe me,”  _ he said as they spotted four dolphins approaching.

_ “Dolphins!”  _  Moon was distracted by them, and he watched as they swam under and around the boat.  

_ “Striped dolphins.  They live between the Rock and the mainland.  We’re usually the only traffic here, so it’s safe for them.”   _ Hanzo smiled peacefully at Moon’s vibrant face.  Moon reached out and gently touched a nose, and the dolphins splashed him and moved on.

_ “So cool!”   _ Moon looked over to Hanzo, seeing him smile.   _ “OK, so maybe this place isn’t so bad after all.” _

_ “Not so bad?  You don’t like it here?” _ Hanzo asked.

_ “Everyone is no noisy!  They never stop to rest.”   _ Moon shook the water from his hair.   _ “And they’re always, go sleep in your room!  Don’t sleep in the pantry! This is a medical wing, get off of my bookshelf!” _

_ “Do not sleep in the gun range.”   _ Hanzo’s face was serious.   _ “Why do you sleep in odd places?”  _

Moon shrugged.   _ “I dunno.  I just, my room is lonely.  That’s where the people are.” _ Hanzo adjust the sail and they started to head towards the Rock.  

_ “You’re very social.”   _ Moon shrugged.   _ “But please, listen.  You have the right to be angry.  But from personal experience, leaving that anger in your heart lets it rot.”   _ The dolphins returned shortly, breezing past them.   _ “I had to learn to leave my anger behind, and some days I fail.  But holding it in your heart is no way to travel through life.” _

_ “I don’t wanna be angry, and I don’t wanna be scared.  I just wanna eat sopapillas and nap.”  _ Hanzo smiled again at Moon.   _ “Jesse’s teaching me to play guitar.  It’s neat! He’s nice.” _

_ “He can be,”  _ Hanzo admitted in a soft voice.   _ “Zenyatta wishes to continue to speak with you as a counselor.  He’s quite wise in the way of mending hearts.” _

_ “He’s kinda scary.” _  Moon leaned into the wind, eyes closed.   _ “But he’s nice to talk to.” _

_ “He healed my brother, and for that, I am eternally grateful.”   _ Hanzo quickly swapped sides to adjust the sail better.  Their sailing lesson had ended up more like a ride, but neither minded.  The ocean was good for them.  _ “I am trying to let him help me, as well.  Please give him a try.” _

Moon nodded slowly, and watched as the dock grew closer.   _ “OK, I’ll keep talking to him.”   _ Hanzo nodded gratefully.

 

\---

 

“We,” Moon stated cheerfully as he hopped onto the deck, “saw dolphins!”  He then made a strangled sound as he tripped over a rope.

“How did you manage not to trip before?” Jesse asked as he hauled him up.  “Lately you’ve been a downright disaster!”

“My ankles were chained and I was trying not to walk too fast because I didn’t want to be interrogated!” Moon said as he dusted himself off.  “I feel better now, not so drained all the time. So I speedy I go.”

“Fair ‘nuff.  You scat, I gotta talk to Hanz.”  Jesse shook his hat at the teen. “Well, git!”  Moon took off. “And watch where you’re going!”

Hanzo handed Jesse a rope and they started to moor the little sailing skiff.  “He has had the talk before. Moira saw to it.”

“Good, but not what I was gonna ask,” Jesse said, relieved.  “But, did you, you know, talk?”

“We did, but not much.  He will come when he has questions.”  Hanzo moored the stern and Jesse adjusted the rope.  “He seems much better lately. What did you want to talk about?”

“Hanzo, I know we’ve had some rocky patches,” Jesse said quietly.  “I know I done screwed up a few times.”

“We can try again,” Hanzo said quietly, and Jesse grinned at him.  Jesse held out a few small cards. “What are these?”

“Counselors.  You know, for relationships.”  Hanzo thought on this a little.  “Face it, we need more help than we were giving each other.”  Hanzo nodded and tucked the cards into his hanten. The traditional jacket had a few new elements, such as discrete pockets and smart fibres.  Hanzo nodded at him. “You can pick.”

“Let’s have some lunch, we’ll discuss it then.”  Jesse tipped his hat and Hanzo walked with him up to the kitchen.


	16. Imitation of a Normal Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you don't have a normal life, fake it until you make it. Moon settles into life.

November 01, 2080, Sunday Morning

“Here, see, this is his molecular makeup with the new disks in place,” Angela explained as she pulled up a slide.  “They mimic yours, Jack.”

“So, my cells look like Morrison’s, but younger?” Moon asked, spotting the numbers.

“Yeah, that’s him,” Morrison said, hand on his chin.  “You can see the sassmouth gene, right there.” He pointed at a slide.  “See it? Right next to white hair.” Moon slowly turned his head to glare at him.  “I’m older, kid, I’ve got more experience being mouthy.”

“Winston, is there really a sassmouth gene?” Moon demanded suddenly.

“Yes, it’s right there,” Winston said with an offhand wave.  “Next to hair, yes.” Moon glared at him. “Now, this raises several questions.  SEP was dangerous in of itself, but someone has restarted it. And they can turn it off remotely.”

“Wait, stop, what?” Moon asked in a panic.

Winston clapped his back gently.  “Don’t worry, we’ve removed all remote access to you.  We learned the hard way with Vermilion.”

“People keep saying that name.  Who’s Vermilion?” Moon demanded.

“A man we treated with an artificial spine,” Winston explained.  “The casing to your spine was actually his once. Someone pared it down to fit you and modified it.  We’re still not sure how everything works, and we’ve checked the files several times, and we’re not sure how Hound ended up with it.”  Morrison gave a cranky grunt.

Moon gave a startled yelp as Genji hoisted him up from behind by his waist.  “Need the pineapple, it’s calligraphy lesson time. Laters!”

“We’re not done with him yet!” Winston exclaimed.

“Kid doesn’t know what’s going on, eyes are glossing over,” Genji said as Morrison put his hands under Moon’s armpits.

“We’ve got some biology to go over,” he grumbled, and neither let go.

“I have really no idea what’s going on here,” Moon explained.

“OK, the too long, didn’t read of it all is that Morrison underwent experimentation that made him big and strong and fast, got that part?”  Moon nodded. “Someone found that research, and put it in your spine. When your spine is active, you’re strong and fast but not that big, weirdly enough.  Someone is trying to make Soldier: 76 2.0, but this time, they want to shut the weapon off when it gets mouthy.”

“So, I’m what, like a clone or something?” Moon asked, and Morrison let go.

“You are a kid,” Genji said, “and they can give you a Soldier costume when they want to, then take it away.  But Winston and Angie have made sure no one can take your costume away, now. Now, rephrase it so we all know what’s going on.”  Sometimes the others were startled to remember that Genji was an intelligent man under his sentai themed armor and jovial nature.

“OK, um, someone made weapons.  Weapons that have minds of their own and can’t be turned off.  Now, they’re making weapons they can turn off?” Moon offered, and Genji nodded.

“Good, now that that’s done, we’re going outside.  Laters!” Genji adjust his grip so he was holding Moon in one and and made Moon wave.  He then turned and walked out, Moon still in his arm.

“We really shouldn’t let him get away with that sort of behaviour,” Winston said and shook his head.

  
  


November 01, 2080, Sunday Afternoon

“Hey, what Yì is your name?” Genji asked, paintbrush in hand.

“Justice,” Moon answered.  “X with a slash in the top part.”  He drew it in the air, top right to bottom left, top left to bottom right, then the short stroke in open space at the top.

“Cool.  Thanks, Pineapple.”  Genji had been calling him Pineapple, Fèng Lí, based on Reaper’s poor pronunciation of of Féng Yì.  It was EE, not YEE. Moon had never had a stupid, yet nice, nickname before, and just rolled with it.  “And the Féng?”

“Wind, here.”  Moon held his hand out and draw his surname, and Genji nodded at it.  A stroke up, over to the right and down with a lift, then in the three sided box he just made, an X, once more top right to bottom left, top left to bottom right.

Genji gave a short laugh.  “Fareeha would love your name.  She loves justice. And her armor lets her fly.”

“Wait, we both speak Mandarin, right?” Moon suddenly asked.   _ “Why are we still speaking in English?” _  Genji laughed at him.   _ “Why do we EVER speak English to each other?” _

_ “You just love speaking Mandarin!” _ he grinned.  _  “Sometimes I talk to Hanzo about boring crap just to speak Japanese.  Yes, it is a lovely day. Why, no, my hair was blue last week. Taxes are an amazing thing, yes.” _  He held up Moon’s name in calligraphy.   _ “Very simple, elegant, streamlined.” _

_ “The true essence of style,” _ Moon said back.  Genji had a very loose calligraphy, quite  different from Hanzo’s tight, controlled lines.  He never lifted the brush soon enough, leaving ghosts of ink tails on his lifts, and he pressed a little too hard when he started, leaving little pools.  It sang of energy and enthusiasm and ink was flicked everywhere, and Moon wondered if this was why Genji painted outside on the picnic tables. Mei had a charming and tight calligraphy, very tidy and round.

“Hey, you two, you busy?” Morrison asked as he came out.  “We’ve got a good, quiet day and almost everyone’s here, I’m going to grill.”

“Secret ninja escape technique!”  Genji quietly put his tools away, taking his time to do it right, saluted, and walked off.  “Have fun!” Moon put his own set away, a present from both Genji and Hanzo, and examined his own calligraphy.  He was still using either too little or too much ink at first, but it was something he could learn.

“What’s all this?”

“Féng Yì.”  Moon traced above the ink with his finger.  “I want to learn calligraphy.”

“Looks nice.  Help me set up the grill?”  Moon nodded and followed Morrison back into the kitchen.

  
  


Grilling was delicious.  Fareeha and Lúcio had returned, and Lena had brought her girlfriend Emily.  She was bright and friendly and taller than Lena, but that wasn’t hard. When she talked to people she put her hand on their arm, she eagerly handed out sodas and beers amd Moon could see why Lena liked her so much.  Emily was just a vivid personality in a green t-shirt.

Moon was working on his second burger when Morrison put some macaroni and cheese by him.  “Here, try this. It’s mac and cheese.” Reinhardt had forced Morrison from the grill for the time being.

“Can’t.  Cheese.” Moon pat his stomach and Morrison shook his head.  “I’m Chinese, man.”

“I’ll take it!” Lena chirped and scooped it up.  “You’re missing out, it’s great!”

“You ate that cheese with the fruit in it,” Morrison said.

“That stuff didn’t make my stomach twist,” Moon countered.  “And Reinhardt is convinced that he’s going to find one I like.  But the fruit stuff was good.”

Brigitte quickly put some coleslaw down on the table.  “Don’t let him hear you say that!” she hissed. “He’s convinced there’s cheese for everyone.”

“There is a cheese for everyone!” he boomed, putting the cheese platter down.  “Try some hard rind cheese!”

“Hey, Moon, you ever decorate your room?” Lena asked suddenly, and Moon found himself fending off a hideous smelling cheese.  “Let’s go to town, hit the shops, make your place yours! Everyone needs their one place, right, Jack? And it’ll get him off the island.”

“I want off the island,” Moon said quickly

“Last time you left the Rock you were shot with a shotgun and dropped off of a building,” Morrison reminded.  

“Details!” Emily scoffed.  “We’ll take good care of him!”  Emily quickly wrapped her arm around Moon’s, and he clung back.

“I beat Reaper, I can handle shopping!” he insisted.

“No.”  Morrison shook his head.  “That’s the point. You DIDN’T beat Reaper.  You survived.”

“Same thing to him,” Jesse pointed out.  “Look, he’ll be with Lena, I’ll follow a few feet behind, let the kid have a shopping day.  He’s been cooped up all month in the medical wing, he needs a change of scenery.”

“I know you’re worried, Jack, but we’ll just be a few hours.  We’ll go to Málaga, hit the shops, see a museum!” Lena urged.

“Furniture and culture,” Jesse nodded.  “And tapas.”

“Fine, tomorrow after lunch.  Do something with your hair and eyes, a normal color, please.  Jesse, as quiet as you can.” Morrison jabbed his finger at all of them.  “Don’t let anything go wrong. Now, who wants brats?”

He returned to the grill to turn and prod at things, and Lena giggled softly.  “He really does like you,” she said quietly with a grin. “Let’s go get some brats!”

“I’m barbecuing salmon,” Genji said suddenly and pulled out a fish.

“I didn’t know you could do that,” Moon admitted.  He was so tired of not knowing anything! “I, it, wouldn’t it fall through the grill?” he asked.  Everyone seemed confused at this.

“Salmon.”  Genji pointed to the fish steaks as he put them on the grill.  “This is salmon.”

“Oh.”

“Moon,” Genji said, “what did you think salmon was?”

“It’s,” he said, “it’s small and like sand and tastes awful.  The put it in the rice all the time. I hate it.”

“Semolina,” Morrison said after a moment.  “You hate semolina.”

“Damn it,” Moon hissed.

“What?” Emily asked.  “So you didn’t know the difference between two similar sounding names of foods, one of which, I don’t know where I’m going with this.  Here, have a biscuit.”

“Every time I ask a stupid question Morrison gives me homework.”  Moon took an angry bite of his hamburger.

“You’re admitting there’s something you don’t know, and there’s no shame in that,” Genji pointed out.

“But they’re all such stupid questions!” Moon whined.

“No such thing,” Morrison said and checked a brat.  He turned and pointed at Genji, then Jesse. “And it’s not a challenge!” 

 

\---

 

That night Genji brought the tin foil and hair dye to Moon’s room.  He dropped the basket on the desk and looked around. “This place is boring.  You’re lucky you’re going shopping tomorrow!”

“I’m actually kind of excited.  It’s my first time.” Genji pulled two pairs of rubber gloves on and draped a stained towel around Moon’s neck and shoulders.  “I feel like a real person! What did Morrison mean about a normal color?”

“Green is not a normal color.  Brown and black are. He doesn’t want you to stand out in a crowd.”

“But that will let Jesse see me better,” Moon reasoned.

“And anyone else who wants to steal you.  But,” Genji said with a grin, “we can get around that.”  He put four colored boxes on the table. “These colors are so dark they look black, and noone will know until you’re in the sunlight.  Pick a color!”

“Can we use all of them?” he said cautiously, and Genji held up one finger.  “Oh, this one!” Moon scooped up a red called Hidden Passion. “I like this one.”

“Now, this stuff washes out in a few days, got that?”  Moon nodded and Genji picked two patches on his left side to cover with foil, protecting the white from the dye.  “While this is setting you can help me with my roots.”

“I don’t know the first thing about this,” Moon admitted.

Genji gave a bright laugh.  “It’s fine, I can’t see it, and it’ll drive Hanzo crazy!”

  
  


November 02, 2080, early Monday morning

Moon was waiting in the hanger that morning, dressed in jeans, his X Japan t-shirt and his black gloves without the wrist bands.  He was crouched on a table, heels flat and chin on his knees as he clicked through his datapad. He was intently looking at bedroom ideas when Morrison scooped him up by his armpits.  Moon gave a startled bleet and gripped his datapad tight.

“Feet off the table!” Morrison scolded and dropped him on a chair.  “I’m surprised to see you up this early.” Morrison wiped at the sweat on his face, having just come back from an early run.  “Didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Lena said to be ready early!” Moon explained.

“Did you even sleep last night?” Morrison asked and Moon shook his head.  “It’s just after seven. Go grab something to eat, first. Lena won’t leave without you.”

“Give me a few minutes, I’ll get some breakfast ready!” Reinhardt said with his usual cheer and enthusiasm.  “Maybe you could start running with us? he offered.

“I don’t think he’s quite ready for all of that,” Angela said as she almost doubled over for breath.  “I’m not ready for this!” Everyone seemed to be in good spirits, and Moon noticed Hanzo hardly looked winded.  He tucked a strand of hair behind his ear which, of course, instantly popped out of place again. “Breakfast sounds good, doesn’t it?”

Moon was waiting for them in the kitchen when almost everyone filed in.  Reinhardt sang cheerfully as he started to scramble eggs, and Angela pulled out some fruit.  She hummed at the meat spreads Bridgette was setting out, and Moon quickly grabbed some bratwurst.

“Moon, what have you been eating for breakfast lately?” she asked in suspicion.

“Whatever we put in front of him, really!” Reinhardt said with a grin.  “The lad’s got a good appetite!”

Angela tapped on a page hanging from a Dyna Ranger magnet on the fridge.  “The diet plan! He’s a growing boy, he needs nutrients!”

“I get fed,” Moon insisted as he spread honey on some bread.

Morrison took a drink of coffee.  "He had some soda, too, he needs the calories and sugars.”  Angela glared at the him and he stared back over the rim of his mug.  “He gets fed, Angie, don’t worry. We balance his diet.” Morrison poured her a mug of coffee.  “Doesn’t eat as many fruits as you want, but he eats plenty of vegetables.”

“I like carrots,” Moon offered.

Morrison shrugged.  “He likes carrots.” Angela took her coffee after Morrison tried to take a drink from it, and he poured his own mug.  “Don’t worry, he won’t starve.”

“I’m supervising meals from now on,” she threatened and returned to the medical wing.

“Maybe she’ll start eating on a regular basis,” Morrison muttered and sat down.  He pulled out a card and held it up, and Lena zipped into the room and snagged it.  “There’s two k on that one, should be enough. Bedroom, clothes, hobbies.”

“Hobbies?” Moon asked and shoved more bread in his mouth.

“Books, music, games, hobbies,” Morrison explained, and Moon took a long drink of tea.  “Recreational materials.”

“And it’s time to go, love!”  Lena chirped, hands on his shoulders.  “C’mon!”

“Isn’t Jesse with us?” he asked and Lena shook her head and tucked her blond wig into place as Emily adjusted Lena’s collar.

“Thanks, love.  He’s following. Now, don’t go looking for him, that’s a big giveaway you’ve got a tail, and you won’t see him anyways.  He’s actually quite good at blending in, believe it or not.” Lena led him to her personal hovercar, a tiny thing they could all easily hop into.  “Cover story, you’re  Yuèliàng, I’m Grace.  You’re my nephew!” She had practiced with Hanzo to say the name properly.

“Got it, Āyí Grace.”  They took off and started to fly.  Moon bounced a little, happily watching the scenery go by, and Lena laughed at him.  “What?”

“You’re just so cheerful lately!  Before, you looked so scared, so tiny.”

“I am scared and tiny,” he said flatly.  He was fine with Lena calling him him short, since Jesse had spent a good deal of time with his chin on her head last night.  “And I don’t feel so, so weak now. So spent.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Emily said as she grinned at him.  “We’re getting you so much stuff today! What do you want first?” Moon didn’t even know where to begin!


	17. Junkers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seems that every time Moon gets to leave The Rock something goes wrong.  
> Also, Junkrat is surprisingly fun to write.

“You sure this is the place, Roadie?”  The blond was rubbing his chin. “It don’t look like no research facilerydo.”  He checked the address and his massive companion nodded, and they walked to the alley in back.  “Well, if you think so, that’s good enough for me!” he cheered and pulled out the jerry rigged device he called a gun.  The Frag Launcher was versatile, and volatile, and the blond hummed cheerfully off key as he loaded it with fresh grenades.  

The lanky man looked to his massive friend.  “Need a reload, buddy? M’pockets are a bit heavy.”  Roadhog held his Scrap Grun out and Junkrat pulled random objects from his pockets and dumped them in the hopper.  “Oi, there’s that tidbit!” He fished out a piece of toast and popped it back in his pocket. “Save that for lunch.”  He pat the toast affectionately.

The blond man hummed happily to himself as he set up some explosives, grateful no one was around to to call the authorities on them this time.  Junkrat pointed at their supplies, counting and making notes that Roadhog knew he would forget. “Right. Let’s go!” He lifted a detonator and pressed the button, and the wall behind them crackled and exploded.  Junkrat cheered, waving arms in the air. Roadhog had to admit it was a satisfying explosion, strong enough to do the job and controlled enough to keep attention down so they could create more.

 

Inside Lena instantly gripped Moon and Emily tight and pressed them into a corner.  “Stay put! Wait for Jesse!” She adjusted her glasses and activated her communicator, instantly sending a report to the base.  Moon was unsure what to do with the clothes they were buying and dropped them on the table, then ducked under it, pulling Emily with him.  He had forgotten to take off the fashion scarf Lena had draped around him.

“OK, maybe Morrison was right, maybe crap does happen when I leave the island.”  They wrapped their arms around each other, and Emily pet his hair absently. “He’s never going to let me off the Rock again.”

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” Emily said.  “He might just never let you out of your room.”

They watched people running, and Lena zipped back into sight.  “Em! Moon!” They called to her and she was in front of them. “C’mon, Emily, I’m getting you to safety.  Moon, I’ll be back in a tick!” They were gone in an instant, Emily protesting to take Moon first.

Moon watched the legs and feet of people running, and he pulled his earbuds in to listen to the communicators.  “Large explosion at the Zapitas Zorro! Civies exiting safely! Guest awaiting a ride! Investigating!” Lena gave a sudden shriek of shock and Moon swallowed.

“Lena!”  He crawled out from under the table and wished he had his chameleon suit.  Maybe Winston had repaired it? Could he use it again? Moon peeked around the corner and a grimey face peeked back.

“G’day!”  Moon fell backwards with a shout and scrambled to his feet.  “Hey, Roadie, I found one! Hey, hey, little guy, don’t be scared!  We ain’t gonna hurt’cha!” Moon panicked and tessered behind the man and started running.  “Strike a light, Roadie! Teleporter! Kid with black hair, heading your way!”

Moon skid around a corner and spotted a monstrosity of a man.  He loomed as tall as Reinhardt, and easily four times the diameter.  He looked down, eyes invisible behind his shark-themed gas mask, and he shifted his weight in Moon’s direction.  

“Toaster oven!” Moon spat out and took off the other way.  Why couldn't he swear like a normal person? He made his way outside through a hole in the wall and ended up in an alley.  “Jesse?” he asked into his communicator, “I’m in the alley!” Another voice responded behind him. Moon turned, back to the wall.

“Roadie, I found the kid with the teleporter!  Let’s blow it up!” His cheer faded into a giggle.

Moon managed to stand up.  “Please don’t.”

“Right, right, good call!”  The man rubbed the side of his head.  “Can’t go using it if it’s exploded!” He suddenly seemed to realise he was talking to Moon.  “Oi, sheila, what’s a pretty thing like you doin’ here?” Junkrat asked and leaned against the wall.  “How old are you?” he asked with sudden suspicion. “If I’m gonna get shot, it’s not for that again!”

“Um, nineteen?” Moon offered and hoped he would believe it.

“So, a nice sheila like you, hanging in a dark alley.  That’s dangerous.”

“I’m not Sheila.  My name’s Moon.” Junkrat’s eyes lit up.  “And I have no clue what’s going on, what to do, I’m just here, I kinda want tapas, Jesse said they were good, and what the HELL is going on!”  Why did he babble when get got scared? Why about food?

“You got a right nice voice for a sheila,” Junkrat said.

“My name is Moon!” he insisted.

Roadhog lumbered into the alley behind him.  “That’s a boy,” he growled, and Moon nodded.

“Well, and a pretty spunk you are,” he said with a nod.  “Now, the teleporter?” he asked as he rubbed his hands together.  Moon shrunk back a little. “I saw you, mate, you teleported. Now, where’s the teleporter?”

“It’s, um, behind me,” Moon said and both men looked at the wall.

“Now, mate, don’t go fibbin’ to ol’ Junkrat.  Makes Roadhog here upset.” Junkrat prodded Moon in the shoulder.  “Where’s the teleporter, mate, we don’t have time for games. That’s some high tech gear and we need it.”  Roadhog tugged off Moon’s beanie, knocking his hair loose. “It’d be a pity of something bad were to happen to your cap, mate.”

“That was a present,” Moon said quietly.  “Give it back and I’ll show you the teleporter.”  Junkrat gestured and Roadhog flicked the hat at him.  Moon tugged it on and nodded. “You ready?” He reached into his Rickenbacker messenger bag, and when the two leaned forward, Moon teleported himself up over to the nearest balcony.

Moon landed and rolled, but hit the railing and struggled to stand up.  The two junkers were yelling and moving, and Moon leapt to another balcony.  He swore as he ran, this time with the names of blenders, and a giant hook skimmed over him, digging into the wall.  Moon made it to the next balcony before the hook caught up to him, tearing into a door and dragging it, and Moon, off of the balcony.

He crashed into a large trash bin and rolled to the ground, sore and coughing.  “OK, dipstick, the teleporter!” Roadhog planted a foot on Moon’s gut and they both aimed their weapons at him.

“I am the teleporter!” Moon groaned.  “It’s in my spine. It’s in me. I can’t take anyone with me.  It’s just me.”

“Well, now how are we supposed to get the kids out?” Junkrat wailed.

“Wait, what?” Moon groaned.  “What kids?”

Junkrat made a sputtering noise.  “The kids Lau took!” Moon froze and struggled under Roadhog’s foot.  “Been lookin’ for ‘em all week!”

“The Lau family is dead!  Hanzo killed the last one himself!” he insisted, and Junkrat knelt down.

“And how do you know all this, dipstick?” he asked, and squatted down to hold Moon’s nose shut.

Moon slapped at Junkrat’s hand.  “Knock it off! The Lau family was destroyed by Talon and Hanzo finished the job!”  Junkrat gestured to Roadhog, and he stepped back, letting Moon breathe. Junkrat leaned in closer to Moon.  “I know because I was there!”

“You had to be, what, eight when that went down, mate?”  Moon nodded and Junkrat rubbed his chin, knowing he got the age wrong.  “Who’s Hanzo?”

“He’s,” Moon stumbled, “a friend.”  Junkrat and Roadhog shared a glance.

“Even I can see you’re not telling me everything.”  He tugged on Moon’s hair. “So, yeah, tell me more.”  

A voice familiar to Moon filled the alley.  “Flashbang!” Moon curled up into a ball and covered his eyes, and the noxious smoke and flickering brightness of a flashbang lit up the alley.  There was a nauseating crunch and a thud and Moon heard Junkrat yelp. After that came a tired sigh. “Kid, we’re gonna talk about this later, but for now,” Jesse drawled as he kept his gun pressed against Junkrat’s spine, “I heard there's a nice reward for bringing you fellas in,” he crowed in a smooth voice.  “Dead OR alive.”

Roadhog leaned forward and Jesse pulled on the trigger, and the Peacemaker gave a soft click, making Junkrat’s back twitch.  Roadhog stepped back. “Maybe we could, erm, work something out, mate?” Junkrat gave a nervous laugh. “I got some vegemite toast in m’pocket if you like?”

“Leave it there.  Kid, get over here.”  Moon dashed behind Jesse, trying to stay out of Junkrat’s range.  Jesse was wearing slacks and a dark dress shirt, and had actually shaved nicely.  Jesse leaned into his shoulder and activated his communicator. “Found the kid. And some junkers.  Send for extraction.” Moon leaned into Jesse’s shoulder a little. “Kid!”

“They’re tracking some kids stolen by the Laus!” he said quickly.  “We can’t just leave them!”

“Gonna get paid to save them, we are.  We get the kids, they go home, we get paid, we go home,” Junkrat offered.  “Sound good, kid? Roadie? Yer Majesty with his gun against m’spine? You can even bring Clever Hans, the guy who thought he finished the Lau off.”

“Boss?” Jesse said into his shoulder.  He nodded. “Copy that.” Jesse stood up and made a show of hitting the safety and stowing the massive gun under his armpit.  “We’re heading to the safehouse.” Lena’s sporty little hovercar crowded in the alley. “Get in.”

  
  


The safehouse was a greenhouse at the top of a moderately priced apartment building.  The windows were tinted to be dark from the outside, but sunlight still shone through.  Jesse made sure to keep himself between Moon and the junkers, and once inside they ushered everyone to a small room down some steps.  “You might want to have a shower while waiting,” Jesse said with a wave of his hand.

“Oh, we’re fine, mate, took one last month!” Junkrat said brightly.  “Fell inna river. Now, about that lunch you was tellin’ us about?” No one had mentioned lunch, but Jesse didn’t mind: it looked like Junkrat hadn’t eaten in a while.  He pulled out some MREs from a storage tub and tossed them on the table. “So, kid, you worked for the Lau?” Junkrat asked as he tore the bag open.

Moon looked down at the ground.  “Worked is not quite the word,” he said carefully.

Junkrat nodded at him and ripped open his bag of stew.  “You got out in good shape, mate.” Moon shook his head.  “Yer hands?” 

“Washed in Amp,” he said quietly. 

“That’s enough hassling the kid, Rat.”  Jesse took Moon by the shoulder. “Hey, why don’t you go look at the plants.  Don’t touch’em though, Papa Lis gets a little touchy.” Jesse led Moon to the door and walked him to the greenhouse.  He hunkered down a little so they were eye to eye, and when Moon looked away Jesse moved to keep his gaze. “Mei’s coming to take you back to the Rock.  Look’it me, kid, you can’t stay here and you can’t have nothing to do with this operation.”

“But I can help!” he started to insist, and Jesse raised his hand, but Moon continued.  “I’m the only one here with experience, who went through this!”

“And you’re emotionally involved in this.  We can’t trust you to make rational decisions right now.”  Jesse tried to keep his voice even.

“But I can do something!” Moon insisted again.  “We can’t just leave them! I know what’s gonna happen to them!”

“Moon, please, listen.  You’re compromised. Emotionally, logically, physically.  Look, there are missions and cases all of us can’t take.”

“Like what?” Moon demanded, face red and eyes damp.

“I don’t take missions of animal cruelty if I can.  I’m also not allowed to go on Deadlock runs. Twenty odd years and my emotions are still complicated.”  Moon looked down, and Jesse gave both shoulders a squeeze. “Please, Moon, let Mei take you back. You don’t need the damage that comes with shit like this.”  Moon nodded and Jesse actually pulled him into a hug and held his head close his chest. Moon hugged him back, feeling the light armor under his black dress shirt.  “Thank you.” Jesse pat his head and let go, shooing him towards the door.

Moon wandered into the greenhouse, looking at the plants.  It smelled moist and earthy, and the air felt good on his skin, the humidity a contrast to the dry air inside the Rock compound.  Maybe he could get some plants for his room?

He paused and stopped to lift a blossom to smell it, but it didn’t smell like much.  “Please don’t touch the plants,” a bored voice came from the door. “Who are you and how did you get in here?”

“I, um, I’m Moon.  I’m with, you know,” Moon said and pointed at the door to the meeting room.  “They’re in a meeting.”

“I see.”  The man started examining the plants, snipping parts off of in a methodical manner.  Moon wandered a bit, sniffed a purple plant without touching it, and spotted a green fuzzy plant hanging in the corner.  He paused by it and examined it, and fingered the cloth blocking the light.

“Don’t plants need sun?” he asked, looking over his shoulder.

“Those are ferns, child.  They don’t survive direct sunlight.”  Moon knelt down, muttering the he was almost twenty, and spotted one under the table.  It grew in bushy tendrils, some white, some light green and one very pale gold. Moon couldn’t help but ask what it was.  “Oh, that’s a variegated foxtail fern. I rescued it from a dealer who doesn’t know the first thing about ferns.”

“They look soft.”

“Please don’t touch them,” the man said in a strained voice.

“Couldn’t feel them anyways,” Moon muttered, and he blew on the plant to make it move.  “It looks nice.”

“They’re a nice addition to a shade garden, yes.”  The man continued to trim the plants down.

Moon stood and continued to wander.  “Oh, this one is neat!” The plant was a series of long, thin tendrils sitting on driftwood.  “It doesn’t look like a plant at all! What’s this one?”

“There’s a name card,” the man said.

Moon mimicked him silently.  “I never learned to read science words.  Never seen so many plants before, either!  Hanzo’s got a small herb garden, but these are huge!  The air here feels different.” Moon resisted touching a plant with white blossoms with four petals that curled down and touched, making a cage.  “Winston would like some of these. Do you think these could grow in my room? I don’t have any windows, but I have good lighting. Do ferns grow under room lights, or does that hit them like sunlight?”

“ You must by the Commander’s new pet project.”  Moon decided he didn’t like him. “I’m certain you’ll be able to find some plants for your room at the store.”  Moon wandered and finally sat down against next to the foxtail fern under the table. Just to spite the greenhouse man he pulled his glove off and pet the plant with the back of his hand.  

It tickled in a weird way that he liked.  He took a few pictures with his datapad and settled down to read, and eventually his datapad pinged with a message.  “We’re here, Crazy Pineapple,” Genji posted. Genji pulled out a crate of gear as Moon hopped into the hovercar and let himself be taken home.


	18. Junkers on the Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roadhog and Junkrat do their job, thought not without explosions, as usual. Junkrat is still amazingly fun to write.

November 01, 2080, Late Sunday Afternoon

By now Winston was used to Moon’s presence in his lab.  As usual Moon was contorted into the weirdest place, this time around a potted rubber tree.  “So, what did you think of Apostolis Giakoumakis?” he asked, unsure if Moon was sleeping or not as he monitored the mission setting up.  “The man who runs the greenhouse.”

“Didn’t like him.”  Moon made a strangled noise.  “He said I was Morrison’s pet.”

“Well, that’s just impolite and quite inaccurate," Winston said calmly, knowing full well the microphone was on.  "Everyone knows that’s Jesse. Excuse me, Moon. Is everyone on the floor ready?”

“What was that?” Jesse growled into the coms.  “That stuck up asshole better not have,” he startled to snarl, but Morrison cut him off.

“Enough, let’s get into positions.  Junkrat, please go over your information.  Winston, floorplans.”

“Working on it.”  Winston stood and led Moon to the door.  “I’m sorry, Moon, but I need to focus on this.  Why don’t you go watch a movie or something?” Moon nodded and wandered down the hall, and Winston closed and locked the door to his lab.

“The Lau family has some kids, stashed them in a research facility.”  Junkrat rubbed the back of his head. “We was hired, Roadie and I, we was hired to get the kids back by this bloke named Frankie.  Didn’t like him much, don’t like suits much, but, hey, a job’s a job’s a job and we can blow crap up! I like that very much.” Junkrat’s eyes glazed over briefly as he giggled.

“Focus, please,” Morrison said.

“Well, we was given an address and Frankie said he done all the work findin’ the kids an’ kinders,” he started and Jesse interrupted.

“Kinders?”

“You know, wee ones.  Itsy bitsy teacups they are.  We find them, we get them to Frankie, we get paid.  End of story. You lot ain’t gettin a cut, just so you know!” Junkrat insisted.

“We’re not in this for the pay,” Morrison sighed.  “So they have two age groups?”

Junkrat ignored the question.  “Good, ya ain’t gettin’ any. Now, we just get in, we get the kids and the kinders, we get out.  Free money!” he cheered, arms in the air. “But now they know we’re there. Thought Moonboy there was one’a them, being Chinese and all.”

“Have you rescued kids from the Lau before?” Lena asked.

“Oh, yeah, Frankie pays well!  The Lau always take some poor kinders from craphole slums and hauls ‘em off to god knows where, Roadie and I, we get’em back!  Almost a full time job, ya know?”

“This is disturbing information.  The Lau family is finished,” Hanzo mused.

Junkrat scoffed at the archer.  “Didn’t do such a good job, didja?  Moonboy said you thought you did.”

“And how did he know that?” Hanzo mused.  “No matter.”

“We move once Genji returns from scouting,” Morrison said.  “Stay cool, people.” 

Luckily for everyone Genji returned quickly.  “They’ve locked the kids in the basement and are heading for the roof.  I don't know if they’re guarded or abandoned.”

Winston took a long drink from his water as he clicked away.  “Confirming Genji, middle floors are cleared. Six on the roof, two in the basement that I can tell.  Cameras are being broken, can’t get a read on the kids.”

Morrison quickly passed out orders.  “Lena, Hanzo and I on the roof. Genji, Jesse, Roadhog, Junkrat, basement.  Non lethal force unless necessary so save a life.”

“Cameras and floor plans are being sent to datapads and visor,” Winston said as he accessed files and information.  “Locking down the building remotely, and you’re all good to go.”

Soldier: 76 readied his pulse rifle.  “All right people, let’s move.”

“Wait, what now?” Junkrat asked, and Genji took his shoulder.

“Follow us, shoot bad guys, rescue children.”  This was a bad idea, but Genji went with it. The groups split up at the steps and Genji led them downstairs.  He tried to slide around the corner and was instantly frozen when Junkrat stepped around him.

“‘scuse me.  OK, you bodgy goons, hand over the kids!” he snapped and aimed his Frag Launcher.  He got one shot off before Genji hauled him back and the guards started firing.

“What is WRONG with you?” Genji hissed and pulled his sword.  “Stay back!” He drew his blade  Ryūichi moji and slid into the hall.  It was easy to deflect the first bullet, and he flung a single throwing star, striking the hand of the second.  At this point Junkrat’s grenade landed and exploded, fragmenting and scattering debris. 

Genji used the distraction to kick the first man in the temple, dropping him, and the second one started to run.  A massive hook shot out, striking him in the back and knocking him down, and Genji put a foot on the small of his back.  “I’m only going to ask once,” he said as he pressed the tip of his blade to the man’s neck. “Where are the children?”

The man pointed down the hall, then hit a button on his watch.  Roadhog stepped forward and slammed himself at the door as it started to close, and Genji followed.  They squeezed into a hall and Genji spotted a second closing door. Lau had a sore loser switch, ready to burn evidence and kill hostages, and Genji wasn’t about to let that happen.

Genji poured on the speed and slid through the door, sliding into the room as it slammed shut.  He turned and quickly scanned the room, seeing nothing but a handful of children in the flickering light.  Genji quickly assessed the door and swore inwardly, then turned the kids.

Like Junkrat said there were almost a dozen, four older children about ten years old and six younger ones, five years old, kinders.  The oldest was possibly twelve, a little girl, and she stood in front of the others, fear seeping from every part of her. There was a pole in the middle of the room, and he wasn’t sure what it was for.  The bottom was sealed nicely with a rubber lip, but the top just stuck through a ragged hole in the ceiling.

“Hey, hi, I’m Genji,” he said softly, and one of the youngest began to cry.  Genji pulled his mask and hood off, showing the pink hair he had dyed two nights ago, hoping it would make him less scary.

_ “Go away!” _ the girl shouted in Cantonese, and Genji nodded at her.

_ “Hey, I’m Genji.  I’m a cyborg ninja, and I’m here to get you out of here and take you someplace safe,” _ he said in Cantonese.  He knew he had a more Eastern accent, so he spoke slowly.   _ “I’m Japanese.  A real Japanese ninja!” _

_ “Go away, leave us alone!”  _ the girl yelled at him again.  _  “Leave us alone!” _

_ “Hey, don’t you want to go home?  See your mama? Or your brothers and sisters?  I have an older brother. I’m taller than he is.  He’s a grumpy old man who likes salt on his rice. My name is Hanzo,” _ he said in a deep voice,  _ “and I pretend not to like cute things, but I have a secret stash of cute frogs!”   _ They all stared at him, confused and scared, but less scared than before.   _ “C’mon, what’s your name, little warrior?  You’re a brave little girl, protecting all these kids.  I’ll bet it’s something fierce, like Fan He or Lady Thunder Kick.” _

_ “I’m Liang,” _ she said softly, and Genji nodded.   _ “I love Lady Thunder Kick.” _

_ “She’s the best of the Windy Mask Warriors, isn’t she?  All brave and strong and looking after people who need her, like you, Liang.” _  Genji held his hand out and she put her fingers in it.   _ “I’m like Puppet Master Zhou’s Famous Pupil Jiao-Long, I’ve been given a strong body.  I’m going to use it to save you all.” _

_ “Jiao-Long doesn’t have pink hair,” _ a little boy beside Liang insisted.   _ “It’s blue!” _

_ “It’s not real, that’s why it’s pink!” _ Genji said with a wink.  _  “Now, I’m going to call my friends and let them know you’re OK.  He’s banging on the door, trying to get us out. We’re going to get you out of here, and that’s not good.”   _ Genji quickly picked up Liang and sat her on the bed as the pole started to leak water.

“Guys, the room’s flooding,” Genji reported.  “It’s coming from a pole in the middle of the room.  While you guys work on that, I’m going to try to get the kids off the ground.  There’s, like, oh, ten of them.” Genji switched to Cantonese.  _ “Come on, here, on top, kid.  Help your buddy get on the bed, OK?  We’re gonna be fine.” _  Genji boosted the another kid onto the dresser and looked at the pole in the middle of the room.  “Can you check out the room above me?”

“On it, Genji.  C’mon, Rat, up we go!  You do stairs?” 

Junkrat scoffed at Jesse.  “Listen, Jackaroo, I’m just fine.”  The blond banged on the door and heard a bang back.  “Jack and I are upstairs, back in a flash, Roadie!” Junkrat took the stairs four at a time and Jesse huffed to keep up.  “Some of us don’t have a few kilos o’extra meat holdin’ us down. This should be it.” 

Jesse nudged Junkrat aside and aimed a kicked above the handle, smashing it twice with his heal and knocking the door in.  Inside the room was some sort of drill or pump, and a small computer wired to it. “What’s all this about?” Jesse asked, thinking out loud as he examined the device.  He jiggled the mouse and brought up the monitor, which turned out to be a camera feed.

One one monitor they could see Genji lifting the children onto various furniture then return to the door, trying to open it, the water reaching his knees.  One another they could see the pole where it had been drilled into a pipe, and a third showed the hall Roadhog was locked in. He was pounding on the door and it looked like he was winning.  Other cameras showed halls and the roof. The other team had made quick work and were dealing with the men trying to escape via hovercar.

“I seen these before.  It’s a mining thing, mate.”  Junkrat prodded the device. “It’s all set up wrong, though.  Lookit.” Junkrat stabbed the monitor with a finger. “Drill’s going into a water pipe.  They way they have it, it’s like a water screw.”

“They’re using it to drown the kids and flood the operation,” McCree hissed.  “We need to turn this off!” McCree hissed and started punching buttons. “Damn it all, it’s in Chinese.”  While McCree could speak basic phrases he couldn’t read anything save Mei and Moons’ names and a few menu items, and even then he didn’t think he could order off the top of his head.  He slapped the controls as the screen flicked red at him. “I’m locked out! I can’t turn it off!” 

“Well,” Junkrat said as he examined the machine, “there is one way.”  Junkrat ripped a panel from the top of the drill and looked inside. “Nope, nope, it’ll just roll out.  No worries, I got this.” Junkrat grabbed a grenade and activated it, humming some nonsense tune.

McCree watched in horror as Junkrat plunged his prosthetic arm into the machine.  “Idiot!” he bellowed and tried to haul him out, but the machine kept grinding. “Where’s your release?”

“The what now?” Junkrat asked as the drill hauled him up to his elbow.  “Hang on, mate, little busy.” Junkrat gripped his elbow, twisted, and pulled back, leaving the prosthetic arm and grenade in the device.  The arm jerked in a circle but did the trick of keeping the grenade shoved in place. “Ta-da!” McCree hauled Junkrat away as the grenade exploded, showering them in shrapnel and sparks.  “Good one,huh?” Junkrat cheered, and McCree swore.

“Pipe’s stop leaking water, work on the outside door!” Genji called on the communicator.

Jesse swore and hauled his bandana from a pocket and pressed it against Junkrat’s neck.  “You dumb or just plain stupid?” McCree snarled and Junkrat looked down. He tried to grip the bandana and spotted the blood on McCree’s hand.

“Oi, that looks bad,” he muttered, and McCree slapped his hand away.  “Just rub some dirt on it, I’ll be fine! I’ve had worse!” McCree used his knife to cut the straps holding the tire to Junkrat’s back, then scooped him up.  “Hey, buy a guy dinner first, Yank!” How tall was he? Junkrat seemed all leg and slapping hand.

McCree took said slapping hand and pressed it against Junkrat’s neck.  “Hold this here and shut up before you bleed out!” McCree snapped and ran him outside to the hole Junkrat had blown up not even an hour earlier  “Emergency evac, Junkrat’s hit. Took some shrapnel to his neck and artery. We’re at the entry point.”

“JAMISON.”  Roadhog’s voice was loud in their ears.

“On my way,” Soldier: 76 had started to say, and repeated himself after Roadhog interrupted him.  “Glass elevator!” Soldier: 76 snapped, and McCree leaned over Junkrat, covering them both with his serape and his own neck with his hat.  There was a shot from a pulse rifle, then Soldier: 76 crashed through a window above them, hit the ground and rolled, then turned and slammed a biotic emitter on the ground.  

“You blokes, so dramatic,” Junkrat hissed, and his cackle faded as his neck pulsed, soaking the handkerchief with blood.  The field began to stabilize him, and Soldier: 76 tilted Junkrat’s head slightly to apply safe pressure to the wound. He had a three inch piece of shrapnel nestled next to his artery.

“The water’s stopped, I’m going to get in there and help grab the kids.  Do you job, boss man.” McCree nodded and entered the building again. 

Soldier: 76 pulled out a small flashlight and examined Junkrat’s eyes.  “Hey, stay with me, Junkrat. Tell me a bit about yourself.”

Mercy’s voice carried over the communicator.  “En route!”

“Me?  Aw, I’m nobody,” Junkrat insisted, and Soldier: 76 flicked some glass from the serape.

Soldier: 76 adjusted the field and took Junkrat’s pulse.  “You’re pretty good with explosives.” Junkrat grinned and spat a laugh.  “Must like Chinese New Year, right?”

“Aw, those are no good, those little things.  Now Robbie here,” Junkrat started, and gave a confused sound.  “Where’s Robert?”

Soldier: 76 kept trying to keep him calm and talking, but Junkrat was getting tired, so keeping calm was not an issue.  Keeping him talking, however, was. His responses were slurred and taking longer. “Who’s Robert? Is that Roadhog?”

“Naw, he’s m’tire, Robert.  Right useful he is!” Junkrat said.  “He’s a motorised tire bomb! Made’im m’self!” he slurred.  “Right after I made me’arm.”

The fact the Junkrat made his arm impressed Soldier: 76.  There was more to the Junker than he thought. “That thing you haul around on your back?  How much does Robert weigh?”

“Oh, only about ten kilos.  Wonder where he went off to?  Got a lot of powder in him, pity if he blew without me being there to see it all!”  He tried to laugh again, but it was just a gasp. Soldier: 76 checked Junkrat’s pulse again, noting no change.  Well, at least it wasn’t getting any weaker. “Got about ten kilo’a’powder, too,” he grinned. “Big boom!” As he gestured he looked down at his hands.   “Right, lost that one.” He made the equivalent of a vocal shrug. “Good one, too.”

“You lose your arm a lot?” Soldier: 76 asked as Mercy landed near them.

“I juss maka newone,” he slurred.

Mercy quickly knelt by him and began her examination.  “OK, let me get a look at you!” Junkrat’s face lit up.

“Oi-ngels.  Never tot I’d hit’t’good place!” he hissed, and closed his eyes.  “Hope furrus yet, Roadie!”


	19. Downtime and Recuperation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junkrat heals up, and Genji catches the others in the act.

November 01, 2080, Late Sunday Night

Moon started to followed Roadhog as he carted Junkrat to Angela’s medical wing, and Morrison took Moon by the shoulder.  “She’s got some work to do on him,” he said softly, and pulled Moon to the side. “We got the kids out, they’re going to be OK.  There’s a children’s charity we work with, and Helios is going to get them to a safe place. Some can’t go back to their families.”

“Helios?” Moon asked.

“He’s a medic, like Angela.  Good man.” Morrison sighed. “How are you?”  Moon gave a noncommittal shrug. “That good, huh.”  Morrison sighed and adjusted his visor. 

“Still never got that port fixed,” Moon said flatly, and Morrison huffed a chuckle.

“I fixed it while you were recovering.  I hit the wall and there’s a crack in the casing.”

Moon accepted this.  “Helios will look after the kids?”

“Yeah, some of them can’t go home.  Helios knows a few places that take them in, give them what they need, adopt them out.  It’s not going back to their home, but it’s a home. Someplace safe with people to care for them.”

“It’s a ‘here’, then,” Moon said, and Morrison gave his shoulder a squeeze.

“Yeah, they’ll get a ‘here,’” he said with a soft smile under his mask.  “We need to debrief, then I’ll make some dinner. Hope you like pizza.”

Moon nodded.  “I kinda do.”

  
  


No one had ever expected that Strike-Commander Jack Morrison, Soldier: 76, vigilante, field leader of Overwatch, could bake.  His pie crusts were always light and flakey, his cakes were moist and rich, his cookies never burned. In the weeks of training to use his visor he had discovered the secret of making bread, and it helped pull him out of his funk.

Mixing the ingredients was chemistry, science and art.  Kneading the dough was therapy without a punching bag. Learning how long to let it sit showed him patience.  Baking it filled the room with warmth and life, and waiting for it to cool enough to cut was a terrible ecstasy.

Morrison had no illusions that others could be healed by baking like he had, but Moon liked kneading the dough and it was nice to have another set of hands as he browned the meat for the pizzas.  “A little more flour, it won’t stick.” Moon nodded and shook some flour over it. It was nice just to have a quiet afternoon making something after a mission.

  
  
  


November 02, 2080, Monday Morning

Angela had called him, letting him know that Junkrat was awake.  His neck was mostly healed, and he was somewhat disgruntled at having been showered.  That was a protective layer of dirt, you know. Morrison went down to check on him, curious about the Junker.  He was obviously not mentally balanced, and he was extremely intelligent. Roadhog had confirmed that he had made his own prosthetics and gear, but he couldn’t really take care of himself.  Somehow he was checking his banking statements.

“OK, so, your man came through?” Morrison asked as Junkrat checked his banged up tablet.  It wasn’t even a true datapad, just a piece of crap technology wired together with copper bits and luck, but Junkrat made it work.

“That he did, Frankie pays well.”  Junkrat spoke numbers to himself as he made some math, and he adjusted the credits on the banking cards.  “There we go, Roadie’s got his half and half of my half!”

It took Morrison a few moments to figure out hat Junkrat was saying.  “You’re giving him half your pay?” Morrison asked. He wondered what Frankie would do once he realized he wasn’t keeping the children, and what the Junkers would do if he tried to take the money back.

“He’s a great bodyguard!” Junkrat seemed proud of himself.  “Yep, it’s our agreement. Half of everything I make!”

“That’s a bit much, isn’t it?”  Junkrat picked up on Morrison’s concerned tone.

“Look, I know what a lot of people think, Jackie.”  Junkrat had decided Morrison looked like a Jackie and ran with it.  “Strewth, I know I’m a bit of a feral bogan and I ain’t got much up in m’garbage pit here,” he said as he knocked on his head, “and Roadie?  He keeps me alive. Sometimes I just, ya know, m’brain wanders. He keeps me above dirt, right? He ain’t never hurt me, he won’t let anyone else.”  Roadhog walked in with a plate of food and Junkrat went from calm and contemplative to frantic again. “You’re late, Roadie! I could’a died a’starvation and you never would have knew!”  Roadhog picked up the bread roll and chucked it, striking Junkrat in the face. “Ah, clean bread, my favorite! Ain’t never been on the floor or nothing!”

Roadhog slammed the tray on the table.  “NEVER. Do anything. So stupid. AGAIN.”  Both Morrison and Junkrat jumped a little. His voice was deep and angry, and held a hint of fear.

“Aw, I’m sorry, Roadie.”  Junkrat gave a nervous grin as he rubbed the bandage on his neck, and Roadhog poked the hand away with a stout finger.  “I know you like your paycheck!”

Roadhog shook his head and sighed.  “Eat.” Roadhog pushed the applesauce towards Junkrat, and Morrison stepped back so Roadhog could sit down.  “All of it.” Talking sounded like it strained him, and Junkrat’s face softened.

“Shut it, dipstick, and let me get some grub down.”  When Junkrat’s hand shook Roadhog grabbed his wrist and helped guide it to his mouth.  “You know, Hog, this might not be a bad scam!” Roadhog gave an irritated growl and Morrison nodded.

“I’ll leave you to it.  Let us know if you need anything.”

“Jackie boy said they might even PAY us to blow shit up!  Can’ya believe it?” Morrison heard Junkrat exclaim as he left the room.  Morrison had a teenager to bribe into liking him and it was getting late.

  
  
  


November 02, 2080, Monday Night

Genji stood in the hall, tapping his foot.  “I am super mad at every single person in this room.”  Moon kept shoveling pie in his mouth as Genji pointed to him, Morrison, Jesse and Winston.  Morrison was startled to see Winston bribing Moon, but he had sliced apples and peanut butter and a new educational video about the moon for Moon’s datapad.  “Is that apple or peach?”

“Apple,” Morrison said.  “French vanilla ice cream with cinnamon.”

“Is there any left?” Genji asked, and Morrison nodded.  “I’m keeping this.” Genji showed them the bag of lychee gummies, turned on his heel and left.  “And I’m finishing that pie!” As Moon took a long drink of root beer Genji returned. “Do you like ANY of my food?”

“I like the barbecue fish,” Moon admitted.  “And your sushi. You put lots of pickles in it, more than Hanzo does.  I like pickles. Just, I don’t like the golden rice.”

“Still mad.”  He stomped off.  They heard angry Japanese down the hall.

“Does this mean you guys are gonna stop bribing me?” Moon asked in a sad tone.  Jesse laughed and pulled Moon’s head to his chest and rubbed his hair.

“Education should be its own reward, but snacks can help get the blood sugar up!” Winston said cheerfully.

“Kid, you kept your end of the bargain, you’ll get your sopapillas.  Six a night as promised.” Everyone looked up as Hanzo entered the room.  “You too, Hanz?”

“You’ll spoil him.”  Hanzo gave a soft nod and put the tea tray down.  “It is our nightly tea sampling,” he said simply.   “Tonight we have tamaryokucha.”  Moon eagerly crossed his legs and watched Hanzo prepare the tea.  “I do believe the joke is over, though.”


	20. A Bad Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone was naive to think Moon would escape his past without being touched.

November 03, 2080, Dead of the Morning

Reaper was after him.  As Moon ran he could feel Reaper’s sandy breath on him, and his claws tickled his throat.  He could hear to click-tap of his boots, the hush of his coat, the soft tap tap tap of his ammunition touching and moving away. Moon called out for help, but no one would come.  No one ever came.

Reaper wouldn’t stop.

Reaper would never stop.

Moon Echo, last of the Moon Project, would die by his hands, he was certain of it.  

“Moon?”  Moon kept running, lurching from hall to hall, slamming into walls as he couldn’t take corners, trying to escape the inevitable.  “Moon!”

Reaper’s form surrounded him, filled his lungs, tightened, and Moon tried to scream, but there was only drowning in a hateful pit of embers and sand.  “Moon, you need to wake up!”

Moon was held down, Reaper forming all around him, when there was a scent of cigarettes.  The was wrong, Reaper smelled like ash and rotten jerked meat. “Moon.” That wasn’t Reaper’s voice.

Moon struggled to get away, but he couldn’t pry the arms from around him.  “You’re safe, kid, you’re safe, Yì, talk to me.”

“No, stop, please,” he sobbed, and felt something wrap around him.  “I don’t wanna die. I don’t wanna die!”

“Yì, wake up.  It’s me. It’s Jack.  C’mon, kid, wake up.”

Morrison said his name right.  Reaper never had, he always said it Feng Yee.  Moon felt frozen and he stopped struggling, and he carefully opened his eyes.  

Morrison was kneeling on Moon’s bed, holding him.  “There we go, that’s better, isn’t it?” Moon’s breathing had changed, alerting Morrison to his awakeness.

Dreaming.  He was dreaming again.

Moon gripped Morrison tight, struggling to breathe.  “It’s OK. I need you to look around, all right?” Morrison touched his ear softly, and Moon stopped making the noise he wasn’t aware had fallen from his lips.  “Look around you. Tell me what you see, five things you can see.”

“What?”  Moon was confused, and Morrison gripped his shoulders.

“What can you see, Yì?”

“My, my room.  We’re in my room.”

“Four more things, tell me what you see.”

“I, the Dyna Prism poster.  My, the, the window thing Lena helped me put up.”

“You’re doing good, Yì.  What else? Two more things, what do you see.”

“My bathroom door.  My, the, the shelf. The bookshelf.”

“Good kid, Yì, what can you touch?  Tell me four things, Yì.”

“There’s, you, there’s you, my, um, my blanket with the stars on it,” he said, and Morrison nodded at him.  “And my hair’s everywhere, and, and, the bed.”

Moon adjusted his breathing,.  “That’s great, you’re doing great.  What do you hear? Three things, kid, tell me what you hear.”

“The white noise machine, and there’s you, and that machine thing.  Air conditioner. Vents. Is that three?”

“That’s three.  Can you smell anything?  Two things.”

“I, you smell like cigarettes. I don’t know what else to smell.”  Moon started to sit up and Morrison helped him. “I don’t know what else I smell.”

Morrison’s touch was comforting.  “How’re you doing, Yì?”

“It, I, I was dreaming.  Reaper.”

“You were crying out, we were worried.  Are you awake?” Moon nodded. “Need a verbal, kid.”

Moon looked up and realised he didn’t have a visor on.  “I’m nodding. I’m awake.” Moon wouldn’t know the desperate sprint Morrison made to his room when he heard Moon screaming, barreling past Jesse and almost passing his door.

“Good.  C’mon, up.”  Morrison helped him to the edge of the bed.  “Now, talk to me, Yì, let me know what’s going on.”  His voice was soft and gentle, and Moon felt himself breaking down.  Why did he deserve such a kind voice? Morrison’s hand was never heavy on his shoulder, he never weighed him down or held him back.  He protected him. What had Moon done to deserve that?

He simply leaned into Morrison’s side and cried.  “He killed the others!” he sobbed. “He’s going to kill me.”  Morrison rubbed his shoulder, looking down at a kid who didn’t deserve what happened to him.  “He’s going to kill me!”

“The other moons?”

“The moons, the stars, a few solars.  Whenever Naomi was done he killed them.  He just killed the all stars one night, we could hear the shots!”  Moon started crying and Morrison held him. “Just shot and shot and shot and shot and they were crying and then they weren’t and it was over.  And he’s in the room, he never opened the door, and he’s all, the stars are gone, don’t get any ideas. And he was there, I knew he was still there, and then he left.  And then Kilo was gone when, we just, we took count, and Kilo was gone.”

Morrison pulled him closer and let him cry.  “We vanished, one by one!” He could feel Morrison rippling his fingers, comforting him quietly.  “He killed them!”

“When you volunteered to activate the datapad on the roof last month,” Morrison said and felt like that was years ago, “You knew Reaper was there.”  Moon nodded. “Weren’t you scared?” Moon nodded again. “Is that why you told us your name?”

“I don’t want to be forgotten!”  Morrison continued to grip his shoulder.  “You were there. Genji was there.” Moon rubbed his face on his sleeve, and Morrison broke contact long enough to grab the box of tissues Angela had put on Moon’s desk.  “How did you know I was dreaming?”

“You called out for Jesse and me and Athena let us know.”  Moon nodded, and blew his nose. He noticed his door was open and Jesse was leaning in it, wearing his night pants and a concerned expression.

“Guess I was loud this time.”

“This time?”  Moon nodded. “You have a lot of nightmares?”  Morrison internally called himself a fool in every language he knew.  “Is that why you’re so tired during the day?”

“Sometimes.”  Moon sunk into Morrison’s side, exhaustion seeping from his compact frame.

“And you like sleeping near us.  We make you feel safe, don’t we?”  Moon nodded mutely, hiccuping. Had he ever slept alone before?  Morrison didn’t imagine drug houses and science labs had individual bedrooms.  “Kid, you gotta tell us stuff like this. We can’t make it better if we don’t know it’s broken.”  Moon nodded and continued to lean into him.

  
  


“How is he?” Jesse asked softly, and Morrison gave Moon a gentle nudge.  Moon had cried himself asleep and Morrison didn’t have the heart to just leave him, so he had scooped him up and scooted backwards into the corner, braced one pillow behind his back, and the other under his knees.  Moon had clung to him the rest of the night, sleeping deeper than Morrison thought he could.

“Kid’s never had any meaningful physical contact,” Morrison guessed as Jesse brushed Moon’s hair aside to look at his face.  Moon gave a soft sound and settled deeper into Morrison’s shoulder. “And he drools. Athena, and quietly, are you recording any hard nights for Moon?”

Athena’s voice was quiet.  “I do not record personal spaces.”  Morrison rubbed Moon’s back, feeling his dataport, and Morrison gave a contemplative noise.

  
  


November 03, 2080, Late Morning

Moon was sitting in his usual folded position as Angela pulled up the reader.  “OK, let me get a look at you. I’m concerned.”

“I’m fine.  I slept OK.”  He had to admit he was feeling far more rested than he had been recently, even if he was confused when he first woke up.  At first he was slightly panicked until Morrison shifted, giving a snore, and Moon realized Morrison’s arms were draped around him and he was covered up with his space blanket.  Moon then settled, feeling safe for the first time in ages, and slept until Morrison woke him long after the sun rose.

“We’re going to have a talk about that.  How often do you have nightmares?”

“Pretty much always.”

“Moon,” she said in an exasperated sigh.  “We want to help you, you have to talk to us.”

“Everyone keeps saying that,” he said quietly.

“It’s because me mean it!  Come on, let me check you out.”  She held up the reader and he sighed.  “I want to check your sleep cycle. If there’s anything I can do to help you sleep better, I want to.”  Moon groaned again. “Don’t you like sleeping?”

“I do,” he said flatly, and she shook the reader.  Moon gave one of his weird strangled noises and pulled the back of his shirt up.  “You want to know what’s really stupid?”

“What’s that, Moon?” Angela asked as she used his shirt to wipe some fuzz from the dataport before opening it.  

“It’s hard to be scared of someone named Gabby.  It’s just not a threatening name.” Angela froze.

“Why the name Gabby?” she asked quietly.  “Where did you get that name?”

“Moira called him that.  It irritated him. What’s wrong?”

“I just used to know a Gabriel, that’s all,” she said quietly.  “Here, I’m plugging you in.” Angela lifted the cover and plugged Moon into the computer.  “OK, just pulling your biometrics, and here, sleep cycles.” She sighed as she started going through the data.  “You need to get to bed at a better time, young man!”

“What all information can you get from that?” he wondered out loud.

“Are you looking for anything in particular?” Angela asked as she brought up the menus.  “I can pull almost anything it records, set it to record certain things.”

“Can it, like, tell you when I poop?” he asked, and Angela suddenly laughed, and tried to silence herself by coughing into her hand.

“Genji wanted to know the same thing.  Here, functions, eliminations.” She held the datapad out, and Moon made knowing noises at it.  “You can’t make it out at all, can you?”

“Nope, but it’s weird to know it’s there.  Hey, does it record, like, hair growth?”

“Hm, let’s see, here, ideal growth is actually, oh, my, almost a foot a year!  Average is almost six inches.” She scrolled. “Odd, it says you don’t have any hair aside from head and eyebrows.”

“Yep.  Nothing.”  She raised an eyebrow.  “I’m not showing you.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”  She continued to scroll. “Strange, what’s a video doing here?”  She pulled up a file under the EYES file and clicked play.

Moira’s form filled the screen and she moved a finger from one side to the other.  She was saying something, but there was no audio as she pulled up a flashlight and the image faded to white, then returned slowly.  She looked at a monitor and scowled, then turned back and they could make out her long fingers petting the side of the camera.

“Huh.  I remember that,” Moon said.  “She was testing my new eyes. She never trusted Naomi to do things right.”

“There are several of these littered all over the place.  Why are they in biometrics?” She opened another one, this time with audio, out of synch and possibly recorded from Moira’s lapel.

“How have you been, a stór?”

“Very well, ma’am.”

“Is that what I sound like?  I sound horrible!” Moon squeaked.

“You were younger then, Moon.”

“Would you like a strawberry?”  Moira held a berry out and it vanished below the camera.  “Very good, a leanbh.”  Her fingers brushed over Moon’s cheek again.  “Now, my child, are you ready for today’s experiments?”

Angela looked over when she heard the noise, but she wasn’t prepared for Moon gagging.  She quickly ejected the reader and rotated him, aiming him towards the sink. “Oh, Moon, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t even thinking!”  She managed to keep him from hitting his head on the sink as he spat out bile. “I’m so sorry. Athena, call someone, would you? Jack, or Jesse?”

“Just... wasn’t prepared.”

By the time Jesse jogged into the room Moon was laying on the other examination table, curled up and working on a bottle of coconut water and some chocolates.  “Hey, Athena said you needed someone? What’s going on, little buddy?”

“I made a poor decision.  He has datafiles, videos and audio, stored in his biometric banks.  They’re not in the stored files, they’re in his biometrics! Why would she hide them?”

Jesse rotated Moon at sat next to him.  “Hm, anything we can use to locate the lab?”  Angela and Moon blinked at each other. “If we can find the lab, we can stop them if they’re still creating weapons from children.”


	21. Research and Character Development

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morrison and the others look through the files hidden in Moon's bio-metrics in an attempt to learn more about the lab.

November 03, 2080, Late Afternoon

“Well, anything useful on yours?” Morrison asked as he clicked to the next file.  It had no audio, like so many of them, and was Moon’s eyes flickering back and forth, watching people in front of him.  Some of them were vision tests, color charts and tracking movements. This one had him pointing to different index cards, and the video was of amazing quality.  “What’s he doing here?” Morrison muttered to himself, and Jesse looked over.

“Different shades of red, boss.  Looks like it’s a color picking test.”  Morrison nodded, since while he could technically see, it wasn’t perfect.  It was like a video file that had been saved improperly and run through a filter and over-corrected.  The colors were somewhat dulled, the edges softer and things that moved too quickly sometimes didn’t track.  He was grateful he had anything at all, remembering the first visor. That one had difficulty tracking moving objects and left ghost images.

Morrison flipped to the next video.  He was now reaching more advanced training.  Moon was moving his hands in certain motions, rotating, pressing, sliding invisible things.  Oddly enough the HUD he was affecting didn’t register, though the effects did. Moon’s vision changed colors, activated a low light setting, or made his hands shimmer in the chameleon suit.

Hanzo reached over to look at Morrison’s datapad.  “None of the HUDs are visible on my screens either,” he muttered, and Morrison nodded.  

Jesse snapped his fingers and pointed.  “They’re displayed in their own files, check it out.  Thought they were screensavers or something. Want to take time to match them up?”

“I don’t think that will help us find anything useful,” Morrison said and his lips twitched.  Reaper was now part of the files. In some he was just standing, watching, occasionally moving a hand and bobbing his head as he talked.  Morrison knew his body language well.

He was pleased in this video.  He was impatient in the next, and in the fragmented audio they could hear the click of his boots tapping.  In another he was using his personal communicator. In this one Reaper was threatening a man in a suit, one who had been in several videos before.  Hanzo was running him through facial recognition, but he never seemed to stop sweating and the glare and his bad combover made recognition difficult.   Reaper was gesturing to Moon, and Morison thought he was possibly bargaining for a better price on a used car, though he was most likely demanding obedience. 

Moon’s head bobbed and Reaper’s head snapped over to him.  Morrison winced as Reaper stomped over, guessing the teen had a snappy remark.  Reaper backhanded Moon and the world went reeling, and his vision flickered and was flooded with static.  Moon was hauled up and shoved back, and Morrison quickly swiped to the next video before he had to watch Reaper backhand him again.

“Wait, go back,” Genji said and Morrison pulled it back up.  “Look, there, can we enhance that?” Somehow Genji had spotted the monitor with a date on it.  It was easily visible before Reaper’s strike, a few days before Moon broke into the Barselona labs.  After the strike the video quality became poor and jumpy. They could make out a location on the monitor, Barcelona, and a travel plan.  Morrison quickly started to calculate a trajectory.

“Poor kid,” Genji hissed.  

“It’s a miracle he survived,” Hanzo muttered.  He turned his datapad to show Moon looking in a mirror.  His eyes were better, but barely.

Reaper was behind him, hands on his shoulder.  They could hear pale audio. “And you’re sure he’s ready?”  Reaper’s voice cut out, then back in when he pulled his mouth near Moon’s ear.  “-ill you myse-.”

They could see Moon’s eyes dart from Reaper’s reflection to his shoulders, where Reaper’s claws flexed, constantly adjusting their grip.  Moon’s face was passive, but they could see the fear and discomfort in it. Hanzo taped the date, a few days before the date on Morrison’s screen.

Reaper suddenly put a hand on the back of Moon’s head and slammed his head into the mirror.  They could make out Reaper near his face, and the scratchy audio picked up again. “-sor, understand?  Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir, the visor!  Get the-!” The video cut, then returned, once more silent and fuzzy.  Moon was watching Reaper pass through the bars on the door. He flicked over to the man in the suit, and he pressed a button and the screen went dark.  Head trauma and constantly turning the biotics off and on again had created a poor, decaying vision, and Morrison knew how terrifying that could be.

Jesse stood up.  “‘scuse me.” He grabbed his hat and left, and wandered outside.  “Athena, where’s Moon?”

“Moon is with Winston in his lab.”

“Thank you, darlin.”

“Da nada.”  It had taken a few weeks to get Athena to say it, possibly since Winston kept insisting she stop, so she said it rarely, but it made Jesse smirk each time.  He wandered down to Winston’s lab and let himself in. Moon was sitting on the tale next to Winston, datapad in hand. 

“OK, so when does an island become a continent?” he was asking, and Winston looked up.  “Strayla is not an island. But it is an island. Are they both?”

Winston looked up as Jesse walked over to them both.  “Don’t let Junkrat fool you, Moon. It’s pronounced Australia.  Hello, Jesse, can I help you?”

“Is it because of the plates thingies?” Moon was asking, and Jesse took the datapad from him.  “Um, I’m doing school stuff?” Jesse then scooped Moon up and hugged him, holding him off the ground.  Moon hugged him back, confused, arms over Jesse’s shoulders. “You OK?”

“Just thought you could use one.  You been through a lot.” When Jesse was Moon's age he had fervently wished someone would have just comforted him one time, just one damned time, but Blackwatch was not the place for positive physical comfort.  He just held Moon for a while.

“Jesse?” Moon eventually asked, and Jesse looked down.  “I can’t breathe through your beard.” Jesse chuckled and let Moon go.

“Get your schoolin’ done, kid.  You don’t want to end up like me.”

“A cowboy who doesn’t know how to shave?” Moon guessed and Jesse let out a laugh.  He sobered suddenly, wondering what he had said in the video to make Reaper hit him, and just how easily he said things like that now.  “Are you sure you’re OK and you’re just checking to see if I’m OK to make yourself feel OK because you’re not OK?”

Jesse grinned down at him.  “Smart kid.” He ruffled Moon’s hair, sending the braids flickering, and pulled back.  “Spaghetti for dinner, don’t be late or Lena’ll get it all.”


	22. Shot in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moon gets a lesson in being blind, something you'd think he'd be good at by now.

November 04, 2080, Monday Morning

Morrison had summoned Moon to his office again, and Moon was laying on his small sofa, head off the edge, looking at a green plush frog.  It was sitting on the bottom shelf, half hidden behind a file folder, with a pair of headphones that looked like lily pads and a cheerful smile.  “Hair off the floor, please, we live in civilization.” Moon pulled his braid onto his chest and reached for the frog. “That’s Lúfrogio. He lives there.”

“I want a plush frog,” Moon hissed softly and reached for it.  He continued to reach for it, inching forward, and fell off the sofa with a shriek and a thud.  “I’m OK!” Moon quickly rolled over and adjusted his bandana. “It’s really cute.” He picked it up and made it dance.

“Lúcio gave it to me some time ago.  It just lives there.” Morrison finished a report and stood up.  “Come on, there’s an exercise I want to practice with you.” Moon tucked Lúfrogio back on the shelf and followed, occasionally jogging to keep up.  What part of ‘half of everyone in this place has most of a foot of height on tiny little Moon’ were they not getting? They went to the far end of the compound and came to a stop.

“OK, here.”  Morrison handed Moon a sleep mask.  “There will be times when your implants will go down.  You need to be prepared.” Moon nodded nervously. “Verbal answers, please.”  Morrison reached up and pulled his visor off, and tucked it in his jacket pocket.

“Should I turned my eyes off?” Moon asked quietly.

“No, I trust you with the mask.  I can remove mine, but you can’t take yours out.”

“Well, I can,” Moon said as he pulled the mask on, “but it’s messy.”  Morrison let himself smile at that one. “I’d need a spoon.” This time Morrison laughed.  “OK, it’s on. No, wait, there’s still light.” He pulled his bandana over his eyes then pulled the mask on.  “OK, I’m blinded. Again. But it’s OK, I can take it off and not be blind. This is a temporary thing. I got this.  Tranquil.”

“Good.”  Morrison was pleased his sessions with Zenyatta were going so well.  “If you need to stop, say Shambali. It’s the safe word, and we’ll stop the exercise.  I understand that being blind again and in a strange environment may be taxing on you.”

“Really?” Moon asked as he adjusted his gloves.

“It was hard for me, sometimes, when I first tried it,” Morrison admitted in a gentle tone.

Somehow it had never occured to Moon that other people would be scared of being blind again.  “I, OK.” Moon nodded, then stopped. “I’m nodding. I’m ready.”

“Good.  Now, go in the room and tell me about it.  You just have to let me know your thoughts on the room.”  Morrison gestured to the doorknob then shook his head at himself, and pulled Moon’s hand towards the door.  “Taking your hand, I’m putting it on the door.”

“OK?”  Moon felt for the lever handle and opened it, and stepped inside.  “Um, it’s dark.” He felt around a little, but couldn’t feel much. “It’s biggish?”

“Clap your hands together.”  Moon did so, but not strongly.  “Make a loud clap. Listen to it echo.  You’ve been blind before, never forget the lessons you didn’t know you learned.”

Moon clapped stronger this time.  “There’s, there’s a bit of an echo.”  Morrison told him to go on. “So, it’s a larger room?”  Moon felt the wall and leapt up, and his fingers couldn’t touch the ceiling.  He walked a little bit and bumped into a chair, and he stood on it. Once on the chair he could touch the ceiling with a strong leap.  “It’s, the ceiling’s tall, I guess.” He stumbled off the chair but kept his footing.

He gave a few long sniffs.  “It’s kinda damp, there’s water somewhere, stagnant.”  He wrapped his arms around him. “It’s warmer the further I go in.  There’s a smell, mildew. Breeze.” His lips twitched. “There’s a sound, it’s familiar.”  Moon walked forward, hand on the wall, feeling a workbench and a filing cabinet. “Pipes. It’s water pipes.  I hear pipes.” He found the pipes, then pulled his left glove off. The stumps of his fingers didn’t have much sensation, but the back of his hand did.  “They’re damp and leaking.” Moon wiped his hand on his thigh and pulled his glove back on.

Moon held his breath and clapped his hands, louder this time, listening.  He turned and clapped again, and thought, trying to piece everything together.  What did Morrison want from him? There was another sound, a soft scrape, and Moon exhaled slowly.  He kept walking, slowly, putting his feet down as quietly as he could. He stopped mid step and heard the soft scrape again.

Was he alone in here?

Moon knelt down and pulled his boots off, holding them by the cuffs.  He needed to be quieter, and his twitched his face once his socks were damp.  He held his boots under one arm as he followed the wall, feeling and listening.  Once he stopped the noise stopped too, and he went to step, but stopped before putting his foot down.  There was a soft sound.

Someone was in the room with him.  Moon froze, but calmed himself. Morrison was about thirty feet away, if that, they were safe on a fortified island.  Morrison wouldn’t let anything happen to him, he was Morrison’s responsibility. 

Moon put his boots down long enough to clap, not entirely sure what he was listening for, and held his hands out.  “Hey,” he muttered to himself, feeling a stronger breeze on his arms. He walked with more confidence, and felt the wall.

At the end he felt the corner, then a door.  A garage door? Moon could hear the breeze now, a soft noise as the wind worked its way through the gaps.  He walked as quietly as he could, trying to remember what Genji taught him, and reached the other side quickly.  There was something bothering him about the person in the room. Was that the test? Did he have to know who it was?  It wasn’t Morrison, he didn’t think. Moon felt the garage door and touched the window.

It wasn’t even lunch yet.  That meant they had light. Whoever was here could see him feeling around, blindfolded and vulnerable.  

But Morrison wouldn’t let anyone hurt him.  It had to be someone here. Who was here? Jesse, and Genji, and Hanzo, and Winston.  Mei had taken a small boat with Dr. Zeigler to check on some readings in the ocean, whatever that meant.  Maybe it Morrison himself in the room? Reinhardt couldn’t be quiet, but he didn’t know about Brigitte.

He tapped on the wall, thinking, and moved straight for the middle of the room.  Moon felt about, and heard the softest of noises as the person moved. Heavy fabric, leather?  Moon put the person between the breeze and himself. He turned away from the person and sniffed, and suddenly recognised the smell.

“This would be a lot easier if Jesse weren’t here distracting me,” he snapped quickly and turned, and was rewarded with laughter and clapping, both metal on leather and metal on metal.

Jesse clapped his shoulder.  “That was mighty fine, Moon, mighty fine indeed!”

Moon stabbed his thumb over his shoulder.  “It’d be easier if Genji fixed his ankle, too.”

“Now that,” Morrison said as he stepped into the room, “is impressive.  Mask off.” Once he was certain Moon was blindfolded he had put his visor back on to observe him.

“You don’t get blinded by drug lords and survive to be eighteen,” Moon said and ignored Morrison’s correction of ‘sixteen’, “by not recognising weirdos.”  He pulled his mask and bandana off and adjusted his hair. Like he thought they were in a garage. “Weird, I thought it would be bigger,” he muttered and looked around.

“I’m not a weirdo,” Genji said pointedly.  “And you guessed.”

“Your ankle makes a whir when you rotate it.”  Genji tested this out. “The other one.”

“I don’t believe you.  You guessed.” Genji walked from the room, careful not to move his ankle.

“And how about me?”

“You stink.”  Morrison chuckled and Genji barked a loud laugh from the hall.  “Like those cigars you always smoke.”

“Continue, please,” Morrison asked.

“You sound like your pants, too,” Moon said with a nod.  “The leather over pants. And your boots click a little when you step.”

“Chaps.  See? There are lessons you don’t even know you learned.  I’m proud of you, kid.” Moon blushed a little. Morrison turned to the pipe.  “I didn’t realize the leak got that bad. I’ll have Torbjörn look at it when he gets here.”

Jesse grinned and clapped Moon’s shoulder.  “C’mon kid, let’s get you an ice cream.”

  
  


“Hey, kid?” Jesse asked as they ate their ice cream, “you didn’t know Genji was there, did ya?”  They were sitting in Hanzo’s meditation spot not too far from the kitchen, watching the ocean.

“Nope.”  Jesse laughed and nudged Moon with his elbow.  “Not until he clapped.”

“Still, good job, kid.  Took me several tries before I realised someone was in there with me.”  He bit into his drumstick.

“Well, I spent most of my life blind, so I got that going for me.”  Moon had a frozen Snickers and took another bite. “It was kinda scary, actually, knowing there was someone there.  I almost stopped.”

“I wouldn’t have blamed you.  Ya did good, Moon.” They ate they ice cream in silence for a while.  “Ya did good.”

 

\---

 

Jesse sat in Morrison’s office and Morrison poured them both a scotch.  “Kid’s smart, Jack. Real smart.”

“I noticed.”  Morrison took a long sip of his scotch.  “Good instinct, learned survival skills, natural liar, too.”   He lifted his glass to Jesse. “Reminds me of someone.”

“Oh, that’s a little harsh, Jack,” Jesse said and drank.  Morrison pulled his visor off and stared Jesse in the eyes.  One of the reasons Morrison had a light on the wall in front of his desk was so he could see the contrast of shadow if someone was sitting there.  It allowed him to fake eye contact, and he still had his piercing glare. “OK, he’s got a smooth tongue, I’ll give him that. Something like that’s learned, though.”  Jack nodded and took a drink, then reached over and cracked the window. “Thanks.” Jesse turned the fan on and lit the cigarillo he’d been working on all morning. “We train him up right he could be a right smart agent, Jack.”

Morrison nodded at Jesse.  “I know, but he’s not a natural fighter, not fit for the front lines.  But behind the scenes he can be a big help.”

Morrison pulled the ashtray from the windowsill and put it on the desk.  “I thought you said he wasn’t a recruit,” Jesse said as he blew smoke out the window.

“We can’t cut him loose.  His teleport ability is too tempting a target.  But we can teach him to take care of himself.”

There was a knock on the door and it opened, and Hanzo leaned in.  “Moon and I will be back late tonight.”

“Wait, what?” Jesse asked, and Hanzo walked away.

“Hanzo,” Morrison said and followed Hanzo to the launchpad, hand on Jesse’s shoulder.  “What’s going on?”

“Moon and I will be back tonight.”  Moon’s eyes were bright, and Hanzo’s personal hovercar was sporty enough that Moon didn’t need help hoping in.  “He had an intense morning and some downtime is needed. And a new wardrobe. Whoever picked out those clothes has no concept of style.  Don’t worry, I’m using my own funds.” Hanzo looked into the hovercar. “Seatbelt.”

Morrison felt a bit relieved it wasn’t just him that had to remind Moon.  “I picked out most of it,” Morrison snapped, and Hanzo gave a knowing nod.  “Don’t be stupid, kid. Behave.”

“Maybe,” Moon quipped.

“Yes,” Hanzo said firmly.  

“Yes, sir.”  Hanzo nodded at him and clicked his seatbelt.  They took off and Jesse laughed.

“What?” Morrison demanded.

“Hanzo’s been complaining all week about Moon’s wardrobe.  ‘Who dresses this kid? He dresses like Jack!’” Jesse started laughing again.

“And what’s wrong with how I dress?”

“Boss man, if you’re not in uniform you dress like a Christian cult member.”  Morrison crossed his arms and glared. 

“You wear button downs all the time,” Morrison pointed out.

“With jeans.”

“And what’s wrong with slacks and button downs?” Morrison demanded as they returned to his office.  He happened to be wearing slacks and a button down at this moment.

“Nothing, boss man,” Jesse grinned, “if you’re Mormon.”  

“I have research to so.  Sunfox isn’t going to find himself.”  Jesse started saying something and Morrison shut the door.

“Can I finish my scotch at least?” Jesse laughed, and Morrison held a glass out.  Jesse tipped it down and handed the glass back. “Later, Morrison.”

“McCree.”

 

\---

 

It was almost eleven when Hanzo finally landed.  Morrison had been doing pullups in the gym, and he wiped himself down with a towel and met them at the doors.  “Kid’s curfew is ten,” he scolded lightly, noting a dramatic change in Moon’s clothes. It was the same style, basically, of dressy pants, a button down shirt and vest, but the materials and colors were different and he had accessories.  He was more streamlined now, and Morrison had to admit that his original clothes looked dumpy next to the fitted clothes Hanzo had picked out and most likely had tailored.

Moon’s hair was now a deep crimson with black and white streaks, the streaks braided and caught with golden cuffs, he had decorated the cuffs to his gloves and now had multiple earrings.  “Is that makeup?” Moon was wearing expertly applied eyeliner.

“Hanzo showed me how to contour,” Moon said as he pulled his new luggage along.  “Now I can pretend to have cheekbones!” Hanzo had a few garment bags over his shoulder.

“Where did you guys go?” Morrison asked and fell in step with Hanzo.

“Milan.  Don’t worry, I had a friend tail us.”  Morrison spotted the red-orange ribbon in Moon’s hair and wondered if it was a certain color.

“It was great!” Moon gushed and danced in a small circle.  “We had lunch and there was this fountain, and it was neat, it was frogs that spat water to each other, and we went to, like, eight places, and he got my ears pierced!  I’m all customised now! Look, two holes and a helix! I only got the helix on the left side, though, figured I could get another if I wanted to. We bought shoes, really nice ones, look, my heels don’t slide all over the place, and we went to a place and I learned how to make up myself.  Eye makeup is cool.” Moon opened his door and stepped inside. “And I got some winter clothes, in case we ever go someplace cold. And look!” Moon eagerly opened his luggage and pulled out some yarn. “Mr. Hanzo said Genji can teach me to knit if I bribe him with a robot.” Moon pulled out a vintage sentai action figure.

“Changing my hair was a first step in changing myself,” Hanzo said quietly, and tapped his bridge piercing.  “He didn’t want to cut it, but he agreed to let Lena teach him to braid it.”

Lena was suddenly right there, eyes eager.  “Really?”

“Yeah, just don’t get, you know,” Moon said and wriggled his fingers.  “Weird about it.”

“No promises, love!” she grinned.  “It looks really good, that color!”  Moon blushed and started putting his desk set together.  “Oh, Winston got you a present.” She pointed at the corner and Moon’s face lit up.  “Hope you don’t mind him installing it while you were gone.”

“Ferns!”  He ran his fingers over the ferns, four different types in hanging pots on a decorative hanging plant station.  Each pot had care instructions in simple, clear letters. “I’ll have to thank him in the morning!”

“He likes peanut butter,” Morrison said unnecessarily.  “I’ll leave you to get unpacked.”

Lena followed him down the hall.  “You look a little upset there, Jack.”

“There was nothing wrong with the clothes I picked out,” he said in a sulking tone and she grinned at him.

“Are you jealous that he and Hanzo had a good time together?  I’ll admit I’m a bit chuffed he got shopping without me and didn’t get attacked by Junkers or Talon or anything.”  Lena grinned up at him and Morrison snorted through his nose.

“I’m actually glad Hanzo took him out.  He needed it,” Morrison said as Genji dropped down from the ceiling.  “We’ve talked about that.” At what point had a green cyborg ninja dropping from the ceiling stopped being a surprise?  Morrison was grateful he had accepted life could be strange a long time ago.

“Hanzo finally took him shopping?” he asked, and Morrison nodded.  “Good. You don’t spend as long as Hanzo does in the closet without learning how to accessorize.  Left a report on your desk for you.”

“You shouldn’t tease your brother like that,” Morrison said flatly.

“It’s a gay thing, boss,” Lena said with a shrug.

“Hey, his joke.  After I said it to him a million times.  Laters!” Genji stood with his back to his door, tapped the panel and fell backwards into his room.

Back at Moon’s room Jesse walked over.  “Lookin’ sharp! I know you get upset at night sometimes, so I got Winston to make you a little something.”

“Is that a five foot burrito?” Hanzo asked skeptically.  It was actually just over four feet, but the ratio seemed skewered next to Moon’s diminutive form.

“It’s a body pillow with a heating function,” Jesse said as Moon gripped it.  “Some people sleep better with something in their arms. Hanzo.”

The body pillow had a cover that was printed to look like a tortilla, and it had a cheerful, stupid face with a giant mustache on one side.  “This is BurRico,” Moon said, missing the obvious flirt Jesse was tossing out.

Jesse laughed and rubbed Moon’s head.  “I’m proud of that one, kid. Night.” Jesse’s eyes lingered on Hanzo, and Jesse caught the tiniest nod.

After he was gone Moon looked over.  “Are you two flirting?”

Hanzo gave an embarrassed sigh and hung the last suit in the closet.  “I apologize, he can be inappropriate. Thought I am proud of him, that was subtle.”  Hanzo held out the makeup bag. “Let’s get your face clean before bed.”


	23. Genji Shimada Should Not Be Allowed Around Children

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji gets Moon in trouble, Moon learns a helpful skill, and Junkrat does some work.

November 05, 2080, Tuesday Morning

“Hey, kid,” Genji said as he ambushed Moon and dragged him, squeaking and flailing, into the next hall and around the corner.  “Relax, hey, Moon, it’s, stop that, it’s me. Stop screaming, everything is fine, Athena!” The lights quit flashing and returned to normal.

“What is WRONG with you?” Moon spat out.

“Look, if I don’t kidnap someone at least every sixtyfour hours I lose my ninja license.”  Genji looked at Moon in mock sorrow. “Frankly, I’m disappointed in how easy that was. We’ll have to train you not to get kidnapped.”

“I wasn’t expecting it on my way to the TV room!” Moon snapped back.

“Wanna go play with knives?” Genji asked and Moon blinked.

That was an unexpected question.  “OK.”

Genji led Moon to the gun range and stood him in front of some targets.  “Now, relax, stay loose, relax, that’s good, straighten up, put your foot back, good!”  Genji opened a small leather case and pulled out some throwing knives. “Here, check these babies out.”  Moon carefully picked one up by the handle. “Now watch.” Genji picked up another, pinched the blade between two fingers, and held it over his shoulder.  He flicked it with a practiced movement, and Moon adjusted his knife. “OK, now you.”

“I can do this.”  Moon had to admit it was exciting to play with the knives, and he wondered if maybe he could learn to knife fight.  That could be cool! He could hear the door open and Jesse’s voice chatting away.

Moon brought the knife up quickly and it snapped form his hand, and he heard a soft ping as it hit the ceiling and bounced. “What the fu-” he heard Jesse snap, then another metallic sound.  “Genji!”

Moon turned and spotted Jesse standing in front of Morrison, throwing knife sticking out of his prosthetic arm.  His fingers shuddered and Jesse glared at the blade. “Moon?” Genji said quietly, and Moon looked to him. “Run.”  Genji took off, and after a few moments of panic, Moon followed.

“What the hell was that all about?” Jesse sighed as he pulled the knife out.  “Hit m’elbow control unit.” Jesse poked his joint and tried to flex his arm. The blade was high quality and had slid right between the joints when Jesse held his arm up in reflex to protect himself and Morrison.  “Dang it all, severed a wire. What’s that ninja punk up to?” The blade was now ruined, blunted and bent, and Jesse sighed at it.

Morrison shook his head.  “You go get your arm fixed, I’ll find the kid.”

“You sure, boss man?  It’s only a three minute fix.”

“No, I’ll get Moon.  You get yourself patched up.”  Morrison clapped Jesse on the shoulder and the cowboy wandered off to his room to get a repair kit.  “Athena, find Moon.”

There was a short pause, then a beep in his ear.  “Moon Echo is with Hanzo Shimada. Hanzo Shimada is on the roof of the communication center.”

“Or course he is.  Let me know if he moves.”

“Understood.”  It took him a few moments to climb the steps, and he wondered if Moon tessered.  He had been tessering down longer halls and around the shoreline, trying to land without tripping.  Winston had put hard limits on teleporting to different heights, though, fearing a faceplant from the roof or a cliff.  Moon didn’t seem to have much of a grasp on distances. Or balance. Or inertia. Or was it momentum? Morrison shook his head and called out for the teen.  “Moon?” Morrison asked as he opened the door to the communication tower roof. “Can we talk?”

Morrison heard his squeaky reply.  “I didn’t mean it!” 

“Then let’s talk about it.”  Morrison faintly heard Hanzo’s sigh of agitation.  “C’mon, let’s not bug Hanzo.”

Moon was sitting almost in lotus position, hands almost in the right position, face nervous and eyes screwed shut.  “Practicing. Can’t talk.” Morrison looked down at him and drummed his fingers on his arm. “OK,” Moon said after a moment and stood up.  “I’m sorry.”

“C’mon, let’s take it inside.  Sorry, Hanzo.”

Moon’s head dropped.  “I didn’t mean to throw a knife at you.”

“Now,” Hanzo said from his spot, “I am curious.”

“Genji was involved,” Morrison said flatly.

“Curiosity satisfied.”

Morrison gestured to Moon and led him back to the ground.  “C’mon, kid, we gotta talk. You can’t just run off like that when you hit somebody with a knife.  It’s rude.” 

There were sentences Morrison never really thought he would say in life.  Parachutes are mandatory when leaving an airplane in flight. That is not a David Bowie you can trust.  The proper way to report to a superior is 'yes sir,' not 'you can't prove a thing.' Don’t play with landmines.  You can’t just run off like that when you hit somebody with a knife. 

“And Genji can be a bad influence.”

“He’s neat,” Moon insisted as they walked to an open passageway between two buildings.  “When he’s not kidnapping you.” Morrison stopped and Moon stopped with him.

“And being a bad influence.”  Morrison gestured to a wooden wall with several targets painted on it.  “Here.” Morrison reached down and pulled a knife from his boot. “Throwing knives have balance.”  He held the knife on the edge of his finger. “Now, loosely between thumb and middle finger, finger on back of the blade.  Ring and little fingers don’t touch.”

He handed the knife, handle first, to Moon, and Moon balanced the knife, then held it the way Morrison showed him.  “Good.” He took the knife back carefully. “Hand up, over, then exhale and whip it. Now, your feet. Shift the weight on the back to the front, got it?”  Morrison made an exaggerated movement of shifting his weight, and Moon nodded. “And here.” 

Morrison helft the blade, whipped his arm around, and flung the knife, hitting almost the middle of the target.  “Whoa.”

“Yeah.”  Morrison fetched the knife and gestured Moon closer.  “Now you.” Moon took the knife, held it, and exhaled as he pitched it.  The knife plunged into the ground eight feet in front of him. “Good first try!”  Moon glared at him. “I’m not joking, that was a great first effort. You got the footwork down quickly, you follow instructions well and you show a willingness to learn.  Now, c’mon, let’s try it again.”

  
  
  


It took most of an hour, but Moon was now making consecutively good shots.  Morrison had fetched a few more knives so they didn’t have to go back and forth so often, as well as practice with different sizes.  “Well done, you’ve made great progress.” Morrison checked his buzzing communicator. “On my way. Inside, it’s lunch.” He corralled Moon with an arm around the shoulder and took his knife back.  “Hm. Dinner, actually. Oh well, at least we accomplished something, right?”

“I guess?” Moon said, slightly confused.  

“You learned a skill, something that can help you.  That’s never nothing, Moon.” Morrison took the sandwich Winston handed to him.  “I’ve got a call, I’ll let you know when I’m free.” He walked out of the kitchen and Moon sat at the table.

“What would you like on your sandwich, Moon?”  Moon shrugged at him, and Winston gestured to the ingredients.  “How about you come see what we’ve got?”

 

\-----

 

November 04, 2080, Monday Afternoon

“You should be resting!” Angela insisted, but Junkrat waved her off and scooted himself along on a rolling chair.

“No worries, doc.”  Junkrat rolled down the hall, Roadhog following.  “Just need me a shop, need to make me a new arm.”

Angela jogged to catch up with him.  “Winston’s working on a new one for you, I’m sure you’ll like it.”

“Doc, look, I ain’t making drama, but I don’t need no hand that they make.  I make my own.” He gave a strong kicked and laughed as he rolled down the hall a little faster.  “That fancy arm that Jackeroo has, I don’t need it. Me own arm I make m’self? I know that arm. I can fix that arm.  Those fancy things? Corker doovalacky, I’m sure, but not much good iffn I can’t fix it.” 

“I can see the logic behind that, but you need rest!”  Roadhog caught the chair before it toppled. “You’re not stopping, are you?”

“Nope!”  Junkrat turned the corner, almost running into Morrison and Moon.  “G’day!”

“Why didn’t you give him his leg if he’s going for his walk?” Moon asked.

Angela sighed at the situation.  “He just went off on his own.”

“Oi, Jackie boy, where’s a machine shop?  Need t’start another arm.” Junkrat shook his stump around.  His arm ended just under his elbow, and he had professionally installed sensors.  “Hey, spunk, find me a cricket glove, would’ja?” he asked.

“Why do you keep calling me that?” Moon asked.

Junkrat shrugged.  “Just means I like your look, kid.”

“What’s a cricket glove?” Moon asked, and Junkrat spotted the plates.

“Oi, is that grub?”

“Morrison and I made sandwiches.  Dr. Zeigler, we made a spinach and white sauce one for you.  We didn’t know what you two would like so we just made bootlegs.  I don’t know what that means.”

“Thank you, Moon, could you put it on my desk, please?”  Moon nodded and walked to the medical wing. “Junkrat, please, let’s get you some lunch, then you can go to the machine shop, if Jack says it’s fine.”

“I see no issue with it.”  They returned to the medical wind so the Junkers could eat their sandwiches.

  
  
  


“I showed them the machine shop,” Morrison said.  “I’m curious about what Junkrat can do.”

“So you’re just going to sit back and let natural selection take its course.   That junker ain’t right in the head, boss,” Jesse said carefully.  “Don’t know about the big guy, either. But you steer clear, kid, I still don’t trust them.”

“Got it.  I’m gonna go watch a movie or something.”  Moon walked backwards then tumbled through the door.  “Ninja away!”

“Genji can be a bad influence on him,” Morrison sighed as he shook his head.  “But it’s nice to see him having fun. You know he’s going straight to the machine shop.”  Jesse nodded at Morrison. “You following?”

“Yeah, of course.”  Jesse wait a moment, finished his drink, then followed Moon.

 

“Did you bring me a cricket glove?” Junkrat asked without looking up.  “Need the batting pad, too, thought I might make a nice arm this time.”  Moon put the box on the counter and Junkrat’s eyes lit up. He turned and pushed the chair and it buckled under him, and Moon and Roadhog moved forward to pick him up.  “Thanks, mates. Up we go!” 

“I found some cricket gear, didn’t know if you might want more.”  Moon started pulling the supplies from the box.

“Good onya!  Let’s give a peek.”  Junkrat pulled the gloves out and nodded at the quality name brand.  “Fair dinkum, this. Just what I needed!” Moon sat on the counter and watched as Junkrat disassembled the glove and started feeding parts onto what looked like a mechanical hand.

“You make your own arms?”  Junkrat nodded at him. “Neat.  I don’t think I could make my hands.”

“I like makin’ my own parts, Moonie.  I know how to fix em, how to break em, how much they can take.”  Junkrat pulled out a soldering iron and started to assemble another gearbox, holding it down with a screwdriver held in his mouth.  “Got some nice tech here, got some time to make it, gonna make nice new arm!” he chuckled around the screwdriver, and Roadhog pulled Moon off of the counter as Junkrat slid the chair down the counter, grabbing him by his armpits.  Once Junkrat had grabbed the flux and returned to his work Roadhog dropped Moon back into his starting position.

Moon was about to protest being moved without warning when a voice interrupted him.  “And what are you doing in the machine shop?” Brigitte Lindholm demanded. 

“Makin’ an arm,” Junkrat said and held down the glove with his elbow as he worked another finger into place.

“You can’t be doing that without any protective gear!” she insisted.

“S’alright, Roadie’s here.”  Junkrat gripped the soldering iron with his teeth and pulled out another servo to melt into place.

“That there, that right there is why you’re not allowed in here!” she insisted, mildly horrified at him.  Junkrat gave a dismissive noise and waved her off. “And just who do you think you are?”

“Oh, Brigitte, this is Junkrat, and his bodyguard, Roadhog.  They might be signing on. Guys, this is Brigitte.” Moon gestured to the junkers and Roadhog nodded at her.  Brigitte waved back, unsure. “She’s really nice, she supports people on missions, and she makes stuff, too.”

“Charmer, I’m sure.”  Junkrat used his mouth to hold down a piece and pressed it into place.  “Lemme know if you need any help.”

“At least use the face mask,” Brigitte said, getting over her shock.

“No thanks, sheila.  Moonie, be a mate and grab me, oh, this much copper wire, ya?  Kinda thick stuff?” Junkrat held his hand and elbow about two feet apart and Moon nodded.  “If I use a mask how’m I going to hold down the wires? Use yer head.” He knocked on his head, almost burning himself, but Roadhog blocked the soldering iron with the pad of the glove.  “Oh, not yet, Roadie. That can just sit a while.”

Moon came back and had three spools of wire.  “Which one did you want?” Junkrat picked the middle wire and Moon cut him some off.  “How was your visit home?” Moon asked Brigitte and she contemplated the situation.

“They’ve got permission, Brie,” Jesse said, and Junkrat looked up.

“Oi, Jackeroo, got any taller shoes?  She’s a fair hand higher than you,” Junkrat grinned and assembled another finger.

“Like you can talk,” Jesse said and Roadhog sighed.  Junkrat pursed his lips, tossed everything on the table, and Roadhog hauled Moon out of the way before putting the soldering iron on the base as Junkrat slid his chair over to Jesse.

He stood straight up, easily taller than Jesse.  “Yeah, I can,” he said, and Jesse pulled back.

“Well now, that’s unexpected,” he chuckled, and looked up at Junkrat.  “You’re right, you can talk.” Junkrat nodded, sat back down, and slid backwards.  Roadhog stopped the chair, dropped Moon back onto the counter, and handed Junkrat the soldering iron.  “Hey, Moon, I got a free afternoon, you want to practice guitar? I’m certain Junkrat here needs to concentrate on what he’s doing.  Arms are important.”

“Later, Moonie!” Junkrat said and rippled his elbow in Moon’s general direction.  Moon followed Jesse to their rooms, picked up his guitar, and followed Jesse outside to the picnic area to practice in the sun.


	24. Working Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prank gone wrong gets extra training time in. Something of value is found. Genji has a good idea.

November 04, 2080, Mid Afternoon

Jack Morrison stood in the hall, moist and irritated.  He hated being moist. Lúcio stood in front of Moon, and Moon let Lúcio hide him.  “I have questions,” Morrison said and flicked mayonnaise from his forehead. “Quite a few, actually.”

“We thought you were Genji!” Moon said quickly from behind Lúcio and ducked back behind him.

“Well, that answers the WHY, are least,” Morrison said, and after plucking the last part of water balloon from his shoulder he held his arms behind his back.  “Since you’ve got enough energy for pranks, you’ve got enough energy for a workout. It’s time we start teaching you self-defence. You two, get this place cleaned up and meet me in the gym.  You have twenty minutes.”

“Yes, sir,” they both said as one, and Lúcio went to grab the mop while Moon wondered where to hide the rest of the condiment filled water balloons.  

 

\-----

 

“Basic self defense.”  Morrison walked in a circle around Moon.  Across the gym Lúcio was sparing with Jesse, each trying to toss the other out of a ring made from masking tape on the mats.

“It’s more than just ducking under tables,” Genji quipped, and Morrison ignored him.  

Morrison continued.  “First you need to learn how to fall.”

“I do that plenty on my own.”  Morrison looked down at him. “Sir.”

“Adding sir to the end of a sentence doesn’t automatically make it respectful.”

“Sorry, sir.”  Morrison looked down at Moon.  Lúcio and Lena were just barely shorter than Moon was, but they both held themselves with confidence, making them seem taller.  

“Stand up straight.”  Moon did so and Morrison adjusted his posture and assessed him.  

Genji interrupted.  “So, you’ve got no ranged weapons, no skills, and no tables to hide under,” Genji quipped.  “A sexy cyborg ninja is coming at you. What do you do? What DO you DO?” he asked as he poked Moon in the shoulder.  Moon looked around quickly, and Morrison watched him.

“Mr. Hanzo, Genji’s bothering the commander and me!” Moon suddenly shouted, and Genji slowly lowered his hands.

“You clever little beast,” he hissed, and Morrison actually laughed.

“Genji!”  Hanzo stormed out, face dark, and scolded him in Japanese.  “I deeply apologize for his actions, Commander.” He bowed briefly and Morrison saluted.  “You are almost forty years old! Why are you like this?” he hissed as he hauled Genji away.

“That was actually clever, Féng,” Morrison noted.  “And funny. What was your thought process?” 

Moon shrugged and Morrison gestured for him to continue.  “Well, I can’t stop him, but Hanzo can.” 

Morrison grinned at him.  The kid was pretty clever, even if he didn’t know it.  “Well, put your hands up, we’ll go through some basic moves.”

  
  
  


“That wasn’t so bad now, was it?” Morrison asked as Moon stepped into the hot tub.  At first Moon was startled that Morrison dropped his towel as he slid in, but Moon followed suit.  “You’re getting stronger and healthier.”

“Incoming.”  Genji entered the hot tube his usual way, falling in face first.  He blew bubbles, then rotated and hauled his face and right arm out of the tub, tugging his towel off.  He wore board shorts underneath his towel. An impressive amount of water rolled from his face plate as he pulled it off and chucked it behind him.  “Here. No hard feelings for narking me out. You nark.” Genji tossed a small travel bottle of sake to Moon and Morrison snagged it before Moon did.  Morrison gave him a firm ‘no.’ “Aw, c’mon, it’s a small one,” Genji said.

“He’s just a kid!” Morrison insisted.

“Oh, right, and he’s Chinese.  I’ll get you some mijiu.”

“Genji.”  Genji laughed at Morrison and stretched his mechanical legs.  

Genji put his hand to the side of his mouth.  “I’ll hook you up later,” he said in a comically loud whisper.  Morrison shook his head and pulled his visor off. “Man, you sucked out there, Moon.  But, being bad at something is the beginning of being sorta good at something! Saw that on an intellectual learning program.”

“My body hurts,” Moon complained.  He had hit the mat several times as Morrison had thrown him.

“How horrible for you.”

“Sorry.”  Moon instantly felt bad.

“Don’t be rude, Genji,” Hanzo scolded and sat down at the edge.  He pulled his prosthetic feet and his cup socks off and rotated into the tub, lowering himself in a graceful move, then pulled his towel off.

Genji grinned at his brother.  “Your boyfriend says I’m sassy.”

“Jesse McCree is NOT my boyfriend,” Hanzo snapped too quickly with a blush.

“Hanzo, can you show Moon some basic self defense tomorrow?  We hit the basics of falling and dodging down, but he’s not much of a boxer.”

Moon sunk a little lower in the water.  “I don’t want to get hit in the jaw again.”  The water felt weird over his sensors, and he wasn’t sure he liked it.

“Watch the sassmouth, kid,” Jesse said and dropped his towel as he entered the water.  “You did good today, Lú!” he grinned and Moon examined his knees as Lúcio entered the hot tub.  There was still room for three more people, or one Reinhardt, and Moon settled his shoulders back as everyone started to talk.

Finally something reached over and touched his head, tapping and feeling.  “Moon, I said don’t sleep in the hot tub.” Morrison had heard his snores and groped for his head, knocking a lump of hair loose.

“I’m not sleeping!” Moon insisted as he sat up and adjusted his hair.

“And don’t get hair in the hot tub.”

“I don’t have a choice in the matter,” he muttered and twined his hair on top of his head.  He tucked everything around and managed to get a braid in place, securing everything. He leaned back and felt the hand on his head again.  “I’m not sleeping!” he insisted, and heard laughing. “Jesse’s got more hair than I do!”

They laughed at Jesse’s expense, and Jesse pondered a moment, scratching at his hairy chest.  “You snore, kid,” Jesse said, and Moon pulled his knees up again. “C’mon, off to bed with you.”

“It’s too early for bed!” Moon said and turned around, searching for his towel.  “I am, however, hungry.” He hauled his towel around him and went to go get dressed.

 

\-----

 

November 04, 2080, Late Afternoon, right before supper

Moon was rooting in the pantry.  “No, I don’t see it,” he called out.  “There are egg noodles, will those do?”

“Spätzle is egg noodles, maus!” Reinhardt laughed.

“Oh, well, then I found them.  How many?” He grabbed three bags and looked out, and Reinhardt held up four fingers.  Moon grabbed the last bag and put them on the counter. “Can you make egg noodles like Mei and I do real noodles?”

“Spätzle are real noodles,” Reinhardt said in mock seriousness.  Moon shrugged and Reinhardt laughed. “I want this done before Ana gets here, she loves spätzle.”

There was flurry at the door as an older woman walked in, hauling her shawl off.  She put her bags on the table and turned to face them. She was a tall older woman, and Moon suddenly realized she was related to Fareeha.  Was this her mother, the Ana Amari that Morrison spoke of in a fond voice? “Of course I love spätzle, Reinhardt,” she said as she embraced him.  “It reminds me of you!”

“Ana, how are you!”  He gave her a gentle hug, lifting her up as she chuckled.

He put her down after she kissed his cheek and she turned to Moon.  “Reinhardt, who is this lovely gift of a child?” 

“Moon Echo.  New recruit of sorts.”  Reinhardt clapped Moon’s back then quickly grabbed him and stood him up as he toppled over with a panicked yelp.  “Moon, this is Ana, Fareeha’s mother and a dear friend.”

Moon gave a cough and waved.  “Hi.”

“Have you been feeding him?  Look at him, so skinny!” Ana lamented as she touched his shoulder and ear.  She was gentle and tall, almost as tall as Morrison. “Reinhardt, I’m ashamed of you, letting this boy starve!”

“I’m making schnitzel!” Reinhardt grinned and gestured to the frying pan.

“Fareeha, did we bring any makings for kushary?”  Ana reached into her bag and pulled out a handful of toffees.  She examined Moon, judging his weight, and put one toffee back.  “Here, child, be a dear and bring those to Jack while we get supper started.”  She pressed four into Moon’s hand.

“I’m seventeen,” Moon said bluntly, ignoring Reinhardt’s correction.   “I’m not a kid.”

“Then you won’t need supervision, go, go!” she urged.  “Supper will be here when you get back. The man is practically starving you, I can see it in your eyes.”

“It’s not even six o’clock yet.”

“So it will be a little late.  Go!” She clapped her hands at him and ushered him from the kitchen.  “Fareeha, the garlic, the poor child needs garlic!”

“Athena, is Morrison in his office?” Moon asked, and she gave an affirmative answer.  Moon jogged down the hall and slowed as he turned, and he examined the candies. They had shiny gold wrappers and crinkled enticingly in his hand, and he tessered down two hallways to reach Morrison’s office.  He knocked on the door. “Sir?”

“Enter.”

Moon opened the door and slipped inside.  “Fareeha’s mother is in the kitchen and she’s making something with garlic for dinner and she wanted me to give you these.”  

Morrison wasn’t wearing his visor, and he held out his hand.  Moon carefully set the candies in his palm and, unsure how to finish, pat his hand twice.  “Thank you.” Morrison felt and counted them. “Only four toffees?” Morrison asked with a concerned look.  Obviously she usually gave him more. This was a message of displeasure.

Of course Moon ran with it.  “You’re practically starving a young man to death, Jack.  I’m a gift of a child, you know.”

Morrison looked up at him.  “I think Jesse would say you have a bad case of sassmouth.”

“Jesse says a lot of things, sir,” Moon responded.

“Oh, does he, now?” Morrison said in a challenging tone.

“Like how you smoke too much.”

Morrison scoffed.  “That man has no right telling anyone they smoke too much.”

“Yeah,” Moon said as he perched on the arm of the ancient sofa, “but he smokes pure tobacco, not chemical strewn sticks of poison and cancer that have no flavor save burning.”

“Sit on my sofa properly.”  Moon slid into the seat, not even bothering to protest or ask how he knew.  Morrison rested an elbow on his desk. “Who’s bribing you what to nag me now?”  They both knew Morrison knew who was bribing him.

“Dr. Zeigler gave me a button press.  It’s really neat.” Moon held out his slouchy beanie with a new pair of Rickenbacker buttons, then felt sheepish once he realized Morrison had his visor off.  He clicked the buttons together. “I’ve made a few for my hats.”

“And how often are you supposed to nag me?” Morrison asked and held a toffee in his general direction. Moon took it eagerly.

“A few more times, at least.”  Moon unwrapped it and popped it in his mouth.  “At least three.” Morrison sighed and shook his head.  “Want me to get it over with?” Morrison sighed then nodded.  “Um, you need to watch your diet, that’s too much salt.” Moon counted on his fingers.  “You need to rest more often, your workouts are pretty intense and you need to let your body rest.  She wishes you would open up more with your, um, I don’t remember what she said, injuries? You need to tell her when you’re hurt and not sit on like a child afraid of the dentist.  That three? That’s three. I’ve earned my button press. I’m going to get some schnitzel and some kush.”

Morrison’s head snapped up.  “You better mean kushary.”

“Sounds right.  I’m getting some kushary.”  Moon hopped from the sofa and took off, and Morrison continued skimming newspapers.  A single strand of Moon’s long hair got between his fingers and his braille board when he handed over the toffees and he rolled it between his fingertips and flicked it away.  The kid was shedding, it had to be spring.

“Damn it all, lost my place,” he muttered.  The hair had dragged along the surface, scrolling the newspaper, and he felt the first headline, trying to find his news article.  His eyes narrowed despite not using his visor as he read the fashion column about new hair growth techniques, including the ability to change the color.  “Meet our pretty new model  Yuèguāng, Moonbeam!”

Morrison pulled his visor on and looked at  Yuèguāng, a young Chinese miss about Moon’s age and height, and he pulled out second datapad.  “Moons, moons, moons, Moon  Bravo .”  Moon had told them what he knew of the others, how they vanished, who they were before.  Moon  Bravo  was a pretty girl, he had said, but she was bitter and angry. 

“Athena pull everything about this beauty company you can.”

“Right away, Strike-Commander.”  Morrison leaned back and pulled up the public profile about Beauty Sky Health and Glamour.

  
  


“I got something.”  He put the file on Winston’s desk.  “Talon is using the beauty tricks they learned from Moon and the other kids.  Remember how he said he had a mole they removed? And his freckles and the white patch?  And how Moira changed his hair and now it grows super fast?”

Winston finished typing his line of code before turning and picking up the file.  “Beauty Sky Health and Glamour. Let’s see, Moon said it was possibly two years, so, the times match up.  This gives Moira the chance to manipulate his genes, then get the procedure patented and on the market. The mole, the skin, the hair, he’s a test subject.”

“A test rabbit,” Genji said as he swiped a peanut butter cookie.  “No, wait, he’s sixteen, that makes him a horse. Joke doesn’t work.  Abandon comedy.” Winston blocked him before he could snag another cookie.  “They’re making money off of his suffering, off of all of their suffering.” He held a report out and Winston took it, a copy of the report Genji gave Morrison last night.  “I found a research facility, matches what we know. Between Spain and France, dry area, deep building, locals said the people there spoke a lot of English. The top floors are basic medical lab stuff, blood thinners and replacements, mainly, but there’s a basement.”

Genji took a long drink of Winston’s apple juice.  “That’s mostly backwash by now,” Winston said dryly, and Genji put it back.

“Thanks for the warning.  But here’s the thing, there’s a basement I can’t get into easily.  It has a DNA lock on it. I think we can get in with Moon’s DNA. Just some hair or a blood sample or something.” 

Winston peeked in the file and spotted the DNA reader.  “Hm, I’m not familiar with that model. We may need a live sample to get in.”

“We are not taking Moon into the field,” Morrison bristled.

Winston nodded at Morrison.  When Morrison first appeared he had instantly assumed command, something Winston resented, but they had come to realise they each had their place.  Winston was in charge overall, selecting missions and resources, and Morrison was the field commander, his vast knowledge and experience working best on the front.  They deferred to each other when needed, trying to maintain a balance. “I agree with Jack. Moon’s just a child, and if there’s no reason to involve him then we won’t.  We’ll get a blood sample from him and you can try to open the door with that.”

“On it.  Back later.”

Winston reached over and grabbed Genji’s wrist.  “You are not stabbing that child and using the sword as as sample!”

“I’m not stabbing Moon, I’m just going to see if Ana made any donuts.  I love her donuts.” Winston let go. “Let me know when you stab Moon for his blood.  We can cycle it in my arm or something and keep it live and fresh.”

“That’s a good idea, Genji,” Winston said.  “While you’re there, see if she has any donuts for the rest of us?”


	25. New Plan, Eat the Berries, Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moon learns to make himself a better hostage and they learn how to hypnotize him. This will be important later.

November 05, 2080, Mid Morning

“New exercise.”  Moon looked behind Morrison and into the cargo container.  “Get into the cargo container.” The teen was suspicious, and his arm was still a little sore from the blood sample Angela had taken that morning, almost an entire test tube to check for health and health issues.  

“This feels like a trick, like you’re trying to trick me into making myself a better hostage.  One who packs himself into a cargo carrier for you.” Moon crossed his arms and looked sideways at Morrison.

“Three, four, five six, all six.”  Jesse walked up and bumped shoulders with Moon, nearly knocking him down.  “There.” He dropped the frosting cup into the bag and rolled down the lip, and he slid it into the container.  “There’s your fix for the day, kid. Piña filled for the pineapple. Get’em before Junkrat does.”

Moon flicked his eyes from Morrison to the sopapillas and back again, contemplating.  He crouched down and gave a soft him. “Moon, this is an enclosed area exercise. I understand if you have doubts about being able to handle it.  I know you don’t like small spaces.”

Moon raised a hand and shook his head.  “No, no, let me think a little bit.” He chewed on the corner of his lip and scratched his cheek, eyes narrowing.  “Just thinking about it. I love spoapiñas.” He leaned a little to one side, then the next, and then a little forward, and he teleported to the back of the carrier.

He tried to, at least, but Morrison suddenly gripped him and lifted, then dropped him on the mat.

Moon lay there, eyes wide and expression shocked as he gathered air back into his body, and he lifted one hand.  “HOW,” he demanded. “I was teleporting!”

“You tesser in a straight line.”  Morrison took the hand and helped him stand.  “You have a set speed and my visor can track your energy field.”  He gripped Moon around the waist as the teen kicked. “You still want to continue?”  They both lurched forward a handful of inches as Moon tried to teleport again, and Morrison suddenly felt dizzy.  He managed not to drop Moon, however, who twisted in his arms.

“Remember what Hanzo taught you?” he asked and Moon suddenly lifted his hands above his head.  He twisted and Morrison grabbed his wrists as Moon became dead weight, almost slipping Morrison’s grasp.

“Soooopaaaaas!” he whined, and Morrison tried to get him to stand.

“Hey, Jess, sweeten the deal a little?” Morrison asked, and Jesse walked to the back of the container and plunked down a root beer.

Jesse tipped his hat and returned to the punching bag.  “You guys are mean,” Moon hissed, and Morrison chuckled.  Moon wriggled and struggled, strong for his size, but Morrison was far stronger.  Moon put both his feet on Morrison’s knees, then his thighs, as he walked backwards up Morrison’s body.

“You got an end game there, kid, or are you just getting your feet on my clean sweats?” he grinned.  Moon put his soles on Morrison’s shoulders and pushed, trying to get his body straightened out. Morrison indulged him, curious.  He suddenly shot backwards as Moon shot forwards, and the teen booked it into the container. Morrison watched as he claimed his prize and sat down to eat, and finished his sopapillas.  “Ready for the next exorcise?”

“Can I get more sopapillas?” Moon asked and licked the last bit of frosting from his thumb.  He then downed his root beer.

“You can pick dinner.  You just have to get out of the cargo carrier.”  Moon glared at Morrison. Moon knelt down, calculating, and dashed.  He juked left then tried to teleport, but Morrison grabbed him and from the air and slammed him into the mat again and rolled him back into the carrier.

Moon gave an irritated pterodactyl shriek and it echoed in the carrier.  He suddenly hunkered down and gripped his ears and his breathing became fast.  Morrison sprinted up to him and knelt down by him, hands on his shoulders. “Yì?”

“I’m OK.”  He took a few deep breaths.  “I, the noise, it, I,” he gasped, and Morrison had him stand.  He guided the teen outside and let him hunker down again. “Just wasn’t prepared.  For the noise. That I made.” Morrison rubbed his back. “Does this count as getting out of the cargo carrier?” he asked after a minute.  “I don’t want the tube, don’t put me in the tube.”

“We won’t try this one again.  C’mon, kid, let’s go for a run.”

 

\-----

 

November 04, 2080, Early Morning

The next morning Moon made a twisting sound and lamented at the knocking.  “Noooooo!” he whined. The knocking continued. “Come in.” Morrison slid the door open and looked inside.  Moon was sitting at his desk, pulling his hair into a bun and was already dressed. “Ha! You thought I was still in bed!” he smirked, and Morrison nodded at him.

“C’mon, don’t keep everyone waiting.”  Moon tied a bandana around his hair and hopped into his boots.

He got the first one strapped down and stumbled on the other, then jogged to catch up.  “You know you’re, like, a foot taller than me, right? Your legs almost reach my waist!”

Morrison turned.  “Can’t you teleport?” he asked and kept walking.

“Yeah, but that’s not the point!  I’ve already run, like, two miles by the time we reach the starting line!” Moon insisted.  “My miles are a lot longer than yours, too!”

“Don’t worry, Maus,” Reinhardt said in his usual cheerful tone, “you know I’ll help you get back!”  During the last two runs Reinhardt had easily carried both Moon and Angela halfway around the island.

“Look at this, this is so unfair,” Moon said as he pointed to Reinhardt’s legs.  “His step is taller than I am and you expect me to keep up?”

“He’s got a point, boss,” Jesse laughed.  

At that moment their communicators beeped, and Morrison answered his.  “Yes, Winston?”

“We have a lead on Sunfox,” Winston reported, and Morrison headed to Winston’s lab.  “And Genji’s returned.”

 

\-----

 

“Couldn’t get in,” Genji said simply as he sat on a table.  “Where do you want Moon’s blood?” Angela took the tube from Genji’s arm and plugged it into a datareader.

“Well, it’s still viable, your idea worked,” she complimented.  “I’m taking this to hazard disposable.”

“Of course my idea worked, you made the arm!” Genji said back, and Angel blushed happily as she entered the hazard disposal room.

Winston nodded his head.  “What did you find? Anything interesting?”

“The building’s abandoned, top and bottom.  I can’t get into the labs with just Moon’s blood sample, I need a keycard and an employee’s hand.  It’s all biometric.” Genji handed over the datapad with the door readings on it.

“Something like this?” Winston said and held up a small device.  “I did some research and found a similar device, and based on the readings you give me, I should be able to make a biomimic to crack the door.”  He gestured to the monitor and sighed as he qued the video. “It seems the wraith formula’s been rediscovered.” 

“He’s so violent,” Lena said in a nervous voice.  The pictures were twisted and mangled corpses, some in several pieces.  There was camera footage of a person of unknown gender with a long blond shock of hair wraithing into the room, stumbling, and apparently screaming as they fell.  They turned and ripped out a man’s throat and screamed again before fleeing as a shadowy cloud.

“What is it about that mess that does that to a man,” Jesse muttered and stuck a cigarello in his mouth.  When he went to light it Ana pulled the lighter away, but didn’t take the cigarello from his lips. “Makes ‘em all twisted and angry.”

“There’s audio,” Winston added.  

They could hear a twisted shriek and Hanzo’s ear twitched.  “Wait, play it again. Slow it down some.” Winston adjusted the pitch and volume, and Hanzo nodded.  “It’s Mandarin. I’ve done what you said, I’ve done it. It’s done.”

“Look at his hair,” Genji muttered.  “It’s got black streaks in it oooooooh my god Sunfox is Solar Foxfire, he’s gotta be, it’s just like Mirror Rangers.”

“Genji,” Hanzo sighed, “not everything is a tokusatsu show!” Hanzo said, but the moment he said it he knew Genji was right.  

“The hair, the Mandarin, the suit, the powers,” Genji continued.  “The freaking name. He’s gotta be one of the solars!”

“Athena,” Morrison said, and the A.I. chimed.  “Please summon Moon.” His voice was reluctant.

It took a few minutes for Moon to appear, and everyone continued to examine the tapes in the meantime.  Moon entered the lab and looked around. “Everyone looks sad. Why is everyone sad? Is something wrong?”

Morrison gestured for Moon to sit.  “Yì, what can you tell us about Solar Foxtrot?”

Moon took a deep breath.  “You used my name. Nothing ever good comes when you call me Yì.  Lemme guess, she’s here? Is she here? Tell me she’s not here!”

“She?  She’s a girl?” Winston asked and examined the footage.  Moon swore in Mandarin, then Japanese and Spanish. “Is it her, a Solar?”

“Yeah, that’s Foxtrot.  Golden hair, has a giant black chunk here,” he said and touched his head just behind his left ear, “she was always mean.  Tried to strangle Solar Delta once. He was smaller, the treatments didn’t work on him. Solar Bravo and Moon Alpha had to hit her with a chair to make her stop.”  He took a deep breath. “After that all the chairs were bolted down.”

Moon watched the footage and winced.  “Feels about right. Why’d they Reaper her?  She was scary enough as a person.”

“Well, we know who she is now,” Winston said.  “And we have more information on Talon’s funding.”  He handed Moon a report and Moon glanced at it. “They’re using the technology they learned from you to make a beauty supply store.”

Moon flipped through the pages, reading skill not up to deciphering the legalese and notations.  “Wait,” he said, “they make me pretty. Then they make other people pretty and charge them?” He tried to make sense of the report.  “That’s not fair. I should get a cut. I’m the one who had to sit for an hour and get his stupid head pricked a thousand times!” He handed the report back.  “Well, I lost count about about eighty, but still, not the point. Lost track after the sedative.” He bounced. “The sedative!”

“The what?” Morrison asked.

“There was a sedative, she would, Moira, she would give us strawberries, they had a sedative in them.  She would pet our face and ask if we wanted a strawberry,” Moon explained.

“I remember that video,” Angela said quietly.  “I know what she might have used. There was a muscle relaxer she would give test animals, it wouldn’t be hard to inject a fruit with some.”

“If you,” Moon said haltingly, “if you do what she did, pet me and offer me a berry, I might still, you know, go calm.”  He shuddered a bit and Lena slung her arm through his. “Maybe it will still work on Solar Foxtrot?”

“Hold on.”  Winston started going through his datapad.  “She hid hundreds of files in your reports and biometrics.  The woman couldn’t help but take notes. She must have the sedative in there.”  Winston examined a menu. “She’s like an eldritch being, a fey, a creature with laws and rules she has to obey.”

“Sounds right,” Moon said with a shrug and put his hand on Lena’s.  “She liked her routines. What’s those words I don’t know mean?”

“She’s like a ghost, she has to obey certain rules,” Hanzo said and Moon nodded.

“Sounds right.”  Moon took a deep breath.  “Please don’t test the face petting thing on me.  I’m not into it right now.” Morrison clapped Moon’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry, it’s not on the list.”  Moon nodded and him. 

“Can you remove the files?  I don’t want them there. The videos.”  Winston nodded and gestured to the table, and Moon pulled his shirt up so Winston could access his dataport.  “Nothing but what I need to survive.” Winston pat his shoulder comfortingly as he plugged Moon in.

 

\-----

 

Moon had changed his mind that night.  “I know we have to do this,” Moon said quietly.  “If we can sedate her no one gets hurt.” If someone were hurt or worse and he could have stopped it with a simple test, he would never forgive himself.  Jesse pat his shoulder and held out the strawberries for Angela.

“OK, let me know if you need to stop,” Jesse said quietly.

Moon nodded and swallowed.  “Are you ready?” He nodded and Angela pet his face.  “Eat the fruit.”

“No,” Moon said.  “That’s not what she says.”

“I know, I’m just trying to see if there’s a pattern, or if it’s a specific phrasing.”  She took a breath. “Straaaaaaaawberry?”

“No,” Moon said again.

“Would you like a strawberry?”  Moon shook his head and Angela put her hand on his face.  “Would you like a strawberry?”

“Still don’t want it, don’t even feel weird like I do when she does,” he admitted.  “There’s, it’s not working.”

“Does it have to be a combo, face petting and asking?” Jesse asked.

“Do you want a strawberry, a leanbh?” she asked as she held it up, and he shook his head.  “A leanbh, do you want a strawberry?” she asked again and pet his cheek, and Moon’s eyes grew glassy, but he shook his head awake.  “Don’t you want it, a stór?” she asked again, and Moon went limp. She held the berry to his lips and he ate it.

“OK, wake up, Moon, wake up!”  She rubbed his hands and Jesse clapped his shoulders.  “It’s OK, you can wake up!” Angela touched his cheek. “Wake up, a stór.”  Moon shook himself awake and stood up, and Jesse supported him. “It’s the Irish!  She’s conditioned you to the Irish!”

“Don doit gin,” he gasped, and Angela gestured for him to sit down on the floor, head between his knees.

“We learned what we needed, we don’t have to do that again,” she assured him.  “We don’t even need the sedative.”

Jesse sat down next to them.  “We need to change what that does, Ange.”  Jesse rubbed Moon’s shoulders. “We can recondition him to a new action, but it’ll take time.  I say we make him dance.”

“No.  No dancing,” Moon sighed.  “Wait, you can change it?”

“We might be able to remove it, or we might be able to change it so instead of shutting down,” Angela said as she took some notes, “you do something different.  There might still be a pause, but you’ll be able to wake up from it and react.”

“So, like, maybe kick the person trying to shut me down or something?”  Jesse rubbed Moon’s head. He always liked the way the kid thought.


	26. Gearing up and Moving Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They finally reach the lab. The author's pacing sucks and she apologies.

November 04, 2080, Early morning

Morrison gestured to the sofa and Moon sat, pulling Lúfrogio from the bottom shelf.  “OK, kid, we need to talk.”

“I had more questions about sex and stuff but Hanzo answered them.”  That conversation had been awkward at first, but as they sailed around and out of sight of the compound they had been more open with each other, and Moon felt better for the information.  Hanzo was patient and had some very competent advice.

“No, not, that,” Morrison sighed.  “We need to take you someplace dangerous.”

“I’ve seen the hot tub.”  Morrison paused, a bit stunned.  “When you’re my height and people are Reinhardt’s height the locker room is terrifying.”

“Are you nervous, Moon?  You get sassy when you get nervous.”

“Maybe.”  Moon tucked his knees under his chin and balanced Lúfrogio on his head.  “Whenever you have bad news you get this certain way.” Moon sat up straighter and adjusted his head.

“You’ve gotten good at reading body language,” Morrison admitted.

“We’re going to the lab?” Moon guessed, and Morrison nodded. 

“You get your suit back.”

Moon sat up, still nervous, but happy.  “YES! I get to be invisible again! I love being invisible!”

“You don’t get your guns, though.”

“I’m a shit shot anyways,” Moon added.  “All the guns are too big and I’m just a little guy.”

“You’re still getting something to defend yourself with,” Morrison repeated.  “Come on, to the armory, we’ve got a suit lined up for you.”

  
  


Moon stood in his new battle costume, as he was calling it without telling the others for fear they would take it from him, and looked at his wrists.  His new jacket had short sleeves, and his new weapons sat on the lightly armored wrist cuffs where his old guns used to. Winston had programed hand gestures for him, and Moon looked to Morrison.  Moon’s new goggles could sync with Morrison’s so the strike-commander could keep track of the teen.

“Well, try them out.”  

Moon nodded and performed the gesture, making finger guns and rotating his wrists outward.  The stunners rotated down and into his palms, and he gripped them. They were vaguely gun shaped, but not quite.  Moon made finger guns again and rotated his wrists inward, sending them back to the wrist guards. He did this several times, and Morrison nodded.

“Why do I need to hold them?  Can’t I just shoot them from my wrists?” Moon asked and made a few jabbing motions.

“No.  You need fine control over your weapon.  Manual only. Besides, you’ll shoot your hand off if you shoot from the wrist.”  Moon traced the line of fire a few times and nodded. “Now, give them a try. They’re only stunners,” Morrison said, “they only sting.  The plan is to fire and run, and the stunners will buy you time to get back to us. If you leave your escort. Which you shouldn’t.” Moon nodded.  “Stay near Jesse and me. Wander off and you’re grounded.”

Moon aimed, and remembering what Jesse taught him, gently squeezed.  He hardly jumped as a quick bolt of energy smacked into the target, right above the heart.  Moon lifted his wrists to look at them, and Morrison shoved his hands down.

“Try to keep your energy weapons away from your face, OK?”  Moon nodded at him. “At any given point I can shut your stunners off and turn your chameleon suit on.  At that point you’ll get an alert and your only priority is to seek shelter, am I understood?” He held up his hand.  In his palm was a small object with only one button. “I’ll activate it now so you can see.” 

Morrison pressed the button and Moon’s stunners slid back into his sleeves, his suit shimmered and there was a chime in his ear.  “Cool.”

“When this happens I get a window letting me see what you do.  Remember, your suit is fragile. Can you recite the suit information like you could the CT Scan?” Morrison asked.

Moon brought his feet together and tilted his head back.  “There are many variations of stealth suits. The chameleon suit is covered with a thin layer of a reflected material with miniature cameras.  The cameras are connected to the material on the opposite side, using the image being the user to create the illusion of invisibility. The suits have several drawbacks, however.  They need a constant energy flow and interruptions can short out the system. Any damage to any of the material cells affects both the front and back of the suit. If the subject moves too quickly the suit will not function properly.”

‘You’ve memorized a lot of information,” Winston said in appreciation.

“Yeah, it played each time the programs loaded up.  It was something to focus on while people were getting ready.”  Moon passed his left hand in front of his face. “Can we deactivate it?”  Morrison clicked the button and Moon’s communicator chimed, and he circled his left hand in front of his face.  The suit rippled and the illusion faded, and after a moment he circled his face with his right hand. The suit activated, and he waited before deactivating it.  “They had all sorts of suits.”

“What did they have?” Winston asked as he held out a data reader, and Moon hooked it up.

“Well, there was a frame suit that you could wear on your legs, it moved you, but it damaged a lot of people who used it.  It ran faster than you can. They have a skim suit, I hated that thing. It, like, surrounded you with this force field and you just slid all over the place.  Um, the distribution suit, I hated that thing. If you got hit with energy weapons it just, you know, splashed like water. It never worked right. I heard they got it fixed, but they used me for more soft stuff, like the stealth suits.  I was small enough they didn't’ have to make big ones.”

“There are other stealth suits?” Morrison asked, and Moon nodded.

“This is the only one that worked, though.”  Moon rotated his torso and stretched his arms above his head one at a time.  “The others either shorted out or just didn’t work like they were supposed to.  One of them, well, it burned my leg pretty badly when it fried, but Moira replaced the skin.”  Moon held his arms in front of him, stretching out his shoulders. “She did what she could for the scars, but they didn’t let her do a lot.  Made her mad.”

“She’s a weird woman,’ Winston muttered.  “I can’t believe she would work on children.  I know her ethics are hosed, but she had some in the long run.”

“I think, I dunno.  She knew what would happen to us if she didn’t.  She wasn’t bad to us.” Moon gripped his ankles and stretched his back.  His morning tai chi and meditation with Hanzo had really limbered and strengthened him.  “She always made sure we were fed. But one day they she was gone, and Reaper came in instead.  He, it, my scars. Reaper.”

Moon bent over backwards, then pulled himself back up.  The light armor was flexible and didn’t impair his movements, but he had no doubt it would survive a shotgun blast.  At least one, off kilter, but it wouldn’t survive both that a a dropp off of a building.

“You’re going to be OK, Yì,” Winston said softly.  “Stay with Jesse or Jack, you’ll be fine.” Winston clapped his shoulders.  “And I will double the grounding if you run off.”

 

\-----

 

November 04, 2080, Early Tuesday Evening

Lena had dropped them off and moved the carrier, waiting for their call, and now they stood inside, waiting for Junkrat to finish his examinations.  “We’re sure this is the only way in?” Mercy asked, hand on Moon’s shoulders.

“Genji’s scouting shows this is the fastest and easiest way in.  We get in, we search for the solars and moons, and we get out,” Soldier: 76 explained again, mainly to have something to say to Moon.  

“I mean, I know the plan,” Mercy said, “but does Junkrat?”

“All right, you lot, we’re ready!” the Junker cackled and started to press a button.  Roadhog covered his hand with his own and dragged him away. “My front row seats!” Once they were around the corner Roadhog handed the detonator back and Junkrat wasted no time in slamming the button.

There was a series of soft pops and a crack, and a shape was gouged out of the wall.  Junkrat walked up and ripped part of it down, and Roadhog finished bashing through the rest.  “There, piece of piss!” he cheered.

“That was a lot less disastrous than I thought it would be,” Soldier: 76 admitted.

Junkrat huffed, insulted.  “Hey, ya don’t go exploding as many buildings as I have and not learn a thing or two about a thing or two, Jackie.”  He banged on the wall and the rest of it fell back. “Besides, now there’s more to blow up later!” he said with a gleeful giggle.  “Please let me blow something up.”

“Maybe later, on the way out,” Jesse said and peered in the hole.  “Looks like a hallway.” Moon squeezed past him and looked inside. He turned on the flashlights on his shoulders, making a ‘bwom’ noises as he did so.

“That’s the elevator,” he mused, “so if this is the top floor, the eating area was this way.”  He walked to the elevator and lowered his head, shuffling along. “Aaaaand, should be here.” He held out his right hand, and took a few steps forward.  “Here, the dining area.”

Roadhog stepped forward, felt the door, then shattered it with a punch.  Moon looked inside. “It’s also where we would do the drug packing work.”  He started to climb through and Roadhog picked him up and passed him inside, then ripped the rest of the door off.  “Solars entered first and last, ate against the wall. Then us, then the stars.” Everyone’s flashlights passed over the room, a standard room with built in tables and chairs.  The chairs could only slid backwards and forwards to allow the children to sit easily.

Soldier: 76 entered the kitchen, curious.  “It looks like it’s been used recently, within the week.  They must have moved quickly.” There were still random boxes and pieces of flatware, and Junkrat gathered some sporks.  “Swab the tables for drugs.” Lúcio and Jesse broke out some swab kits and quickly swabbed random tables. “Where to next, Moon?”

“Well, we had to come upstairs for this.  The elevator.” They exited down the hall and took the elevator down a floor.  “No, no, it was more than that. One or two more?” he thought, trying to time it.  They went down two more floors and Moon stepped out. He wandered, head down, trying to remember.  It had only been a few weeks, how hard was it to forget?

He stopped, took a few steps back, and pointed at a grated door.  “Reaper would just pass through, it was creepy.” Morrison scraped some dust from the door, pondering, then he stepped back and kicked above the handle.  It dented and gave, and he shoved it open.

Moon stepped inside and kept his left hand out.  “This was my spot,” he said and paused by a narrow bed.  “Fifth one in.” Out of reflex he sat down and curled himself into a tiny ball as he lay down.  “Yeah, there’s that smell.” Hey lay there for a few moments as the others searched the room, and he felt a warm hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, buddy,” Jesse said softly.  “C’mon, we’re moving on.” Moon nodded but stayed curled on the bed.  “We gotta go, Yì, c’mon.” Moon nodded again and let Jesse help him up.  “Up.” Jesse hauled him onto his back and they kept walking. 

“First door would be solars.  That would be the stars.” He pressed his head against Jesse’s neck, unwilling to look, and Morrison peered in the room.  It was the same as the solars’ and moons’ room, dull furniture and no windows. He kicked the door in and entered, his flashlight making broad sweeps.  It was cleaner, though, like it had been bleached, and Morrison looked up.

As he feared there were splattered spots of mold along the wall near the pipes.  He flipped a bed up and spotted more splatter behind the headboard. “Somethin’ bad happened here, mate,” Junkrat said quietly.  “We ain’t meant to be in a place like this.” Soldier: 76 nodded and they left the room, and Roadhog surprised him by putting the flipped bed back, then Junkrat set down a handful of small trinkets in the door frame, the toys that came in the chocolate eggs Angela gave him for behaving for his medical checkups.

“Jamison?” he asked, and Junkrat looked up.

“Those are bed for kinders, ain’t they?”  Soldier: 76 nodded. They moved on, and Moon led them back to the elevator.  This time they rode down four floors, and they opened to doors.

“OK, this should be the lab.”  Moon clung onto Jesse harder, and Jesse hitched him up.  “I’ve never seen it from this end. Or any of the halls.”  He wriggled on Jesse’s back and the cowboy put him down, and Moon pulled off his left glove.  He pressed it against a panel while Morrison put the biomimic on the other panel and let the machine work.

The labs opened with a hiss and Roadhog slammed a metal pipe in the door, locking it open.  The lights came on automatically. “OK, Jesse, take Moon back up top,” Soldier: 76 said as he hit a power switch.  The lights in the lab flickered on slowly, then some blew out. He stuck his head inside and took a quick peek. “Take Roadhog and Junkrat with you.  Lúcio, Mercy and I will search here and come up when we’re ready.”

“You sure we should split up, boss?” Jesse asked.

“I’m not keeping Moon down here,” Soldier: 76 said firmly.  “And if we didn’t need him for the door he wouldn’t be here at all.”

“I can stay,” Moon said quietly.  “I want to look around, if that’s OK.”  Soldier: 76 clapped his shoulder lightly and gave him a squeeze, and they entered the lab.  “We got a safeword, Shambali, right?”

It was stripped down to the screws in the floor.  Moon gave them a basic tour, however. The holding room, that waiting area, the basic examination area.  He faltered at the next room. “The tube.”

They opened the door with the biomimic and entered.  It, too, was empty, with only holes in the floor where the equipment was bolted down.  The lights suddenly flickered again and died, then slowly turned back on. 

“Evening,” a husky voice hissed from a corner, and Moon turned and ran. 


	27. The Job Goes to Hell and Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaper attacks, splitting the party. After that, Morrison make's Junkrat's dreams come true, and the party gets split again.

Reaper followed, and Soldier: 76 took after them.  There were confused shouts and shots, and Soldier: 76 had to dodge an explosion from Junkrat’s frag launcher.  

Moon was screaming and Lúcio and Soldier: 76 leapt into the hall, Lúcio keeping up with Soldier: 76’s mad sprint on his wheels.  They watched as Reaper coelenced in front of Moon and gripped his wrists, blocking his stunners and lifting him off the ground.

Soldier: 76 leapt, tackling Reaper by the waist, but Reaper faded away and dropped Moon.  Lúcio reached for Moon and Reaper lashed out with his claws, but Lúcio lifted his Sonic Amplifier and fired, scattering Reaper momentarily.  He changed frequencies, keeping Reaper from reforming as Soldier: 76 scooped the teen up. Lúcio readied another sonic blast, and Reaper slid down the hall. 

As he started to reform, his sandy howl echoing, a single grenade landed near his feet.  Soldier: 76 suddenly understood why the tube, why the cargo carrier they trained in triggered Moon, it echoed like Reaper’s voice.  The grenade exploded, not enough to damage the wraith, but enough to make him move and reform, swirling in anger.

Lúcio hit him with another sonic blast and Reaper surged over him, filling his lungs with his foul form.  Lúcio couldn’t scream as Reaper assaulted him from the inside out, and Soldier: 76 slammed down a biotic emitter.  They had the medical benefit of encouraging healing, and a side effect of irritating Reaper. Somehow it interfered with his wraith form, and he pulled back down the hall.  Winston theorised it put his decay/healing abilities out of sync.

Moon was scrambling away from them, panicked and sobbing, and Soldier: 76 reached for him.  He gripped Moon and rolled as Reaper drew his shotguns and fired, and Soldier: 76 hit the ground, flattening Moon but avoiding the blast.

Reaper aimed again and a giant hook slammed through him, and Soldier: 76 rolled another bionic emitter down the hall.  Reaper aimed another shotgun, but once he solidified the others fired on him again, this time a blast from Jesse’s .45.  Soldier: 76 could see the soft glow of Mercy’s  Caduceus Staff, her healing nanites forcing Reaper to become solid for a brief period of time.  As soon as he was solid he turned and pulled out another pair of shotguns as the first pair dissolved behind him.

Without losing his grip on Moon, Soldier: 76 hauled Lúcio up, still coughing and gagging, and they backed down the hall.  Reaper surged forward and slammed himself into Soldier: 76, carrying himself, Soldier: 76 and Moon into the elevator.

It was impossible to duel wield a full sized pulse rifle and a terrified teenager, and Reaper wasn’t making things easy.  Soldier: 76 managed to grab one of Reaper’s Hellfire Shotguns and aimed it up, and Reaper fired several shots into the ceiling.  “Going down,” he hissed as he loaded a grenade on a gun, and the elevator rocked as it hit the ceiling.

They plunged, and Reaper cackled until they hit the ground.  Soldier: 76 braced for impact, trying to protect Moon, and once the world settled he could feel Reaper around them in his wraith form.  “I’m here for the asset,” Reaper hissed and Soldier: 76 opened his jacket to pull Moon in close to his side. Reaper took this moment to dig his claws into Soldier: 76’s side, sinking them to his knuckles before curling his fingers and ripping them out.  He then gripped each bionic emitter on Soldier: 76’s shoulder and crushed it lightly.

Reaper took a point blank stunner to the eye socket and pulled back, and Moon continued to fire.  After ten shots his stunner needed to rest before overheating, and it slid back onto his cuff. A deep, rolling noise pulled itself from Reaper’s throat as he glared down at them.

Soldier: 76 got a shot off in Reaper’s gut, and Reaper pulled back.  He hovered in the corner and rolled a laugh. “I’ll just wait until you’re dead, then take the brat,” he hissed and pulled himself through the ceiling.  There was soon nothing but the dim glow of Soldier: 76’s visor and Moon’s eyes, and the sound of their labored breathing and distant shots fired.

After a minute or two Moon was able to sit up, and he changed his vision to low light.  “Oh, you’re so bloody,” he hissed and reached into his backpack. He had a few supplies, mainly first aid, and he spotted the emergency lights.  Moon almost burst into tears when he dropped his chocolate covered almonds, but forced himself to set the lights and pull out the bandages. Soldier: 76 managed to get his jacket off and Moon poured the antiseptic on his side.

Soldier: 76 hissed and Moon started to babble apologies.  Moon pressed the first package of bandages into Soldier: 76’s side, and the older man gestured to his shoulder.  “The emitters, kid,” he reminded Moon, and Moon grabbed one. They were all dented, but should still work.

“Why’s he like that?” Moon hissed as he rolled the dented emitter in his hands.  He activated it and put it down. “Why are they like that?”

“He wasn’t always like that,” Soldier: 76 said softly.  “Before he was Reaper he was my,” Morrison paused, “my best friend.  We always tried to outdo each other, push each other to be better.” He grunted as Moon applied some pressure.  “Things went sour, though.” Moon pressed a fresh bandage into Soldier: 76’s side. “He was always a hardass. He had a temper, but he wasn’t cruel.”  Moon applied pressure. “But whatever Moira did to him, it brought out the worst in him. Every mean thought, every nasty idea he spent his life suppressing, it just came to the surface.”

“Like the solars.  Whatever she did to augment them made them stronger, but violent.  They had to be locked up after some of them killed a star, Star Tango.  Just beat the little thing to death. They couldn’t take his crying.” The bionic emitter gave a beep and died, and Moon activated the second one.

“Did her work bring out anything in you?” Soldier: 76 asked, and Moon thought about it.  

“I never felt smart before,” he admitted.  “But we moons were given other treatments.”  The bionic emitter died, and Moon pulled the last one off.  He pressed it against his elbow, suspicious of it. “This one’s all dented and feels hot.”  If he could feel heat with his palm, it was warm.

“Don’t use it, then.  Just put it aside. I didn't expect any of them to survive.”  Moon continued to keep pressure on the wound. “Does it look bad?”

“I can’t tell, I don’t know what to look for.  But it’s a lot of blood.” Soldier: 76 nodded. 

“You’re doing fine, Moon.”

“And how are, how are you holding up?” Moon asked in a cracked voice.  They could hear shots above them, echoing down the elevator shaft. When Moon trembled Soldier: 76 pulled him close and tucked Moon’s head to his shoulder.

“You’re doing just fine, Yì.  I’ve been worse. Had a building dropped on me once.  Fell out of an airplane. Got hungover when I was fifteen.”  Soldier: 76 adjusted his posture and pressed the bandages back in place.  “Paper cut myself last night reading Hanzo’s notes. The man is so inconsiderate.  I never paper cut myself on datapads.” Moon started to cry and Soldier: 76 rubbed his back.  “We never should have brought you here.”

“But we could have helped them if they were here, Mike, and Hotel, and the last solars,” Moon hiccuped.  “We can’t leave them behind.” Morrison made vaguely comforting noises and continued to rub his back.

“We’ll find them, we’ll help them, we’ll find Naomi, bring her and everyone to justice.”  Moon nodded and continued to grip Soldier: 76’s chest tight. “No more child soldiers. No more experiments.”  After another minute there was a sound, and Soldier: 76’s communicator beeped.

“Jack, Jack!” Mercy’s voice called out, tiny yet fierce.  “I’m coming down, Reaper’s left, and there’s an alarm. We’ve got incoming.  Are you hurt? Is Moon OK?”

“A little,” he admitted, and gripped Moon tightly.  “Kid’s fine, just shooken up.” He could see the light of her Valkyrie armor as she descended, and she used her  Caduceus Staff to pry a gap open.  “Hi.”

She aimed her Caduceus Staff and Soldier: 76 could breathe easier as the wounds in his side started to pull themselves together.  “We can’t go out the way we came, so we’re going to see if we can’t go through the basement. Winston said there is access to the underground parking garage through the floor right above you.  We go through, up and out.”

Soldier: 76 adjusted his posture and Moon tried to help him sit up straighter.  “Is there a stairwell?” He pulled the bandages off with a hiss and pressed one back on, letting Mercy’s Caduceus Staff continue its work.

“It’s blocked, but we’ll deal with that when he get there,” she said, only to be interrupted by Junkrat’s loud voice.

“Oi, Angel, big guy’s gonna hook the ceiling, shift your cargo!” Junkrat’s voice carried down.

“We have communicators!” she said as she pried at the elevator doors near her.

“Oi, Angel,” he shouted at the same volume level on the communicator.  “Roadie’s gonna hook the ceiling!”

“Stop yelling!” she snapped back.  “We have communicators! Just, OK, I’m clear!”  Roadhog’s hook dropped into the shaft, pausing to let Lúcio off at the floor above the crashed elevator.  Mercy hooked the roof, slid into the hall and and looked up. She debated using her communicator, but just bellowed, her tiny voice carrying in the shaft.  “OK, haul!”

Once the roof was ripped off Mercy slid inside and knelt by Soldier: 76 and Moon, and she shook the teen.  The echoing yells in the shaft had frozen him, and she gently pet his hair. “Come on, Moon, we’re getting you up and out.”  She hefted him up and looked up the shaft. “OK, lower it, a little lower, a little lower!”

The hook lowered and she helped Moon stand on it, and he was lifted to the next floor, Mercy balancing him.  Lúcio hauled him in the hall and gave him a quick hug. “OK, back down you go!” Mercy helped guide Soldier: 76 onto the hook and Lúcio set him against the wall.  Jesse and Junkrat descended on the hook, and Roadhog gripped the cable and lowered himself down, hand over hand. He was remarkably fit for his weight.

Jesse helped Soldier: 76 along as they walked down the hall and Lúcio kept a grip on Moon’s hand, and Moon on Lúcio’s entire arm.  “OK, the building plans say the parking garage meets the wall here, but we’ll have to blow a hole in the wall,” Jesse said and heard a pinging laugh from Junkrat.  “Boss?”

“Jackie boss?” Junkrat asked eagerly.

“Do it, Rat.”  Junkrat dropped his rucksack and started rooting through it, and he pulled out three small grandes.

“Back in a jiffy!” he chortled as he scampered down the hall, and the others followed at a close distance.  Junkrat tapped the wall and muttered to himself, ordering Mercy and Roadhog to move their lights, check here, hold that, don’t drop it, now, it’s live, and finally, he set the explosives and stepped back a foot, plugging his ears.

Roadhog grabbed Junkrat and hauled him several feet away, muttering at him, as the wall crumbled under his grenades.  “Ya never trust me, mate,” Junkrat said in a said tone, “to not blow m’self up!” Roadhog took Junkrat’s prosthetic arm in his and shook it.  “Not my fault.” Junkrat then pointed to Junkrat’s peg leg. “OK, that one kinda is, but you know how it goes, mate! Omelettes, eggs, concussion mines, horse shoes!”  Junkrat hit the wall and it crumbled, revealing the parking garage a few feet below. They lowered each other carefully, and Jesse checked the data.

There was a long ramp to the surface and Soldier: 76 summoned Lena.  “Junkrat,” Soldier: 76 said as they spotted to lights to the carrier, “you can bring the top level of this place down.  Make it look like someone was trying to burn it down for insurance money.” Junkrat’s face grew brighter. “Get creative.  The media activity and insurance will hinder Talon’s attempts to salvage anything we missed, and we missed a lot.”

Junkrat made an excited popping noise, and he waved his hands in the air.  “You are a ripper of a boss, Jackie m’boy!”

“Don’t kiss me,” Soldier: 76 said firmly as Junkrat reached for him.

Junkrat waved them off.  “You lot get moving, Roadie’n’I’ll catch up.  Might take a few days, give’er take, but we’ll be back after we leave our trademark calling card!”

“A smouldering pile of ruins?” Lúcio asked.

“A smouldering pile of ruins!” Junkrat shouted gleefully, far too happy for any one man.  He flapped his hands at them and all but danced, kicking his legs out. “Go, go, get moving, mates, got lots of prep work to do!  This building ain’t gonna blow itself up!” Roadhog waved goodbye as they entered the parking lot, and Soldier: 76’s communicator beeped as the lights got brighter.

“On my way,” Lena’s voice said and his com clicked off.  The lights coming for them were not Lena’s transport.

Soldier: 76 swore.  “Take cover!” Jesse pulled out his personal communicator while he scooped Moon up and ran.  Lúcio and Mercy took Soldier: 76 the other direction. “Lena, we’re under fire!”

“Calling in backup, boss!” Jesse said as he sent the pre-typed text while running.  “Oh, this will do just fine,” Jesse grinned, and clicked the transmitter.  “All we gotta do is stay alive for a few minutes, and we’ll be fine.” He tucked his personal communicator in his pocket and continued to haul Moon by his armpits.  Jesse darted, Moon asking to be put down, and they ran into a wooded area.

Jesse swore and skid to a halt when several guns clocked and were pointed at them.  “Put the asset down,” a man snarled at them, and Jesse slowly put Moon on the ground, keeping his hands on his shoulders.  “Now, step away, hands in the air.”

“Pal, you don’t know what you’re up against,” Jesse warned, and the man stepped closer.

“We need them alive, but this guy doesn’t need all his limbs.”  Jesse counted ten men, and he didn’t have that many bullets ready.  He could feel Moon sink into him, and he swore inwardly. Moon was going to make this tricky if his backup didn’t get here soon.

There was a sound and a man went missing, and the others turned.  Jesse sat down and kept his hand up, grinning madly. “Kid, stay down.”  Moon was getting concerned when nothing happened, then everything seemed to explode at once.


	28. Enter Vermilion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesse calls in a friend, and it's a short chapter when he makes short work of the baddies.

The first man who vanished was tossed back into camp, bloodied and unconscious, and the others started to sweep their flashlights in a circle, looking for the culprit.  They briefly spotted a humanoid figure and a hazy red smear, but it was gone and things went silent. Moon flattened himself and covered his head, activating his stealth suit.  Jesse sat down and pulled out a cigarello, hand on Moon’s leg to keep track of him. “This is gonna be gooooood,” he drawled.

Another man simply vanished, hauled into darkness screaming, and the others turned, their flashlights zipping over the landscape.  There was the smear of red, and to the side, a muzzle flash. Another man dropped and the others fired into the scrub. Moon covered his ears with his hands and the man standing near him him turned wildly.  

They spoke in Spanish to each other, each trying to figure out what was happening, and Jesse smirked.  Spain Spanish was different from New Mexico Spanish, but they were close enough Jesse understood their panicked voices fine.  “Ya can’t find him. Just put yer guns down and ya won’t get hurt. Light me, Vermilion.” He said the name like a weapon and held his cigarello up.  A single energy blast skimmed it, and Jesse took a long draw as two more men fell to stunning bolts as they fled. One of the men simply ran with a scream.  “Look, there’s now, let’s see, three, four, five, five of you left. Think you can handle one guy? One red-eyed Chinese bastard? You know his name. Cost me a cool penny, but he’s here, now.”

There was a sudden crack and a man who tried to flee dropped.  “Sorry, four.” Jesse gave a mean laugh as the men froze, trying to decide to run or not.  “He’s just gonna take you down, one after the other, until there’s noone left but the me and the kid.  And quit shoving your gun against my head, we all know you can’t kill me. Boss’ orders. Just hold your guns above your head and you ain’t gonna die.”  Jesse leaned back, taking another long draw. He blew some smoke and in the brief moment it curled around Jesse’s head the man could see the laser aimed at his torso.

He turned to run into the darkness but the energy blast hit him in the back of his neck and he went down, groaning.  The last three backed up together and Jesse rolled to Moon and covered him with his body. He had left a flashbang behind and it went off, and one of the men shot at it.

Something flashed by and the man who shot was suddenly thrown down, a hand slammed into his chest.  He was quickly dispatched by a kick to the head. The last two men aimed at the man, a slender form in a stylish black suit with notch lapels, red accessories, and a skinny tie.  “Gentlemen, may I introduce Vermilion.” Vermilion had inky black hair pulled into a thin braid and was wearing a silk scarf around the top of his head and around his face. It had a black lace design and a jawbone in ivory over his mouth.  His soles and glove palms were an orange-red that sat in the back of Moon’s mind, a familiar color, and he had a strange triangle tattoo on his forehead.

One of the men simply ran, and Vermilion whipped out a gun and shot him before he took two steps.  The last man held his rifle above his head and Vermilion aimed his gun under his chin as Jesse stood up.  “Stay down, kid. Good to see you again, Vermilion.” Without looking Vermilion pulled his second gun and shot an energy blast, dropping a man who had earlier run.  “And this is why we pay you the big bucks. Stunners?”

Vermilion turned to eye Jesse and nodded, and the man he was aiming at moved.  Vermilion pulled the trigger, dropping him, and he holstered his massive guns. “The others OK?”  Vermilion nodded and crossed his arms. “Love the earrings.” Vermilion made a few hand gestures. “Appreciate it.”

Moon looked around and spotted Morrison, Lúcio and Mercy helping him keep balance as he walked towards them, and he stood up.  “Um, hi.” The man nodded at him. Was this him? The same Vermilion? He wasn’t an omnic, so maybe it was him?

“Vermilion,” Morrison said and slung his pulse rifle on his back.  Vermilion bowed from his shoulders to Mercy, and she curtsied back.  “Thanks for responding.”

Mercy stepped forward and put a hand on his arm.  “How’s your back?” she asked, and Moon took a breath.

It had to be him!  “Vermilion!” Moon said as Vermilion was making gestures.  “You’re, like, I mean,” he started.

Morrison put a hand on Moon’s shoulder.  “Don’t interrupt, please.”

“But no one was talking?”  Vermilion looked insulted, his arms folding across his chest and his head drawing back.  He gave a heavy sigh.

“He doesn’t know, Milly” Jesse said quickly.  “Excuse the kid, he’s been blind a long time, doesn’t know about sign language.”  Vermilion nodded at them. “See, piña, when folks can’t speak with their mouths, sometimes they use their hands.”

“A hand language?  Cool! How do you say Moon?”  Vermilion made a crescent with his hand near his temple and pulled it up and away.  “Neat! How do you say your name?”

“Kid, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but we got to get moving and quickly.  You can talk once we’re secure,” Morrison said, and Moon nodded. “So, what’s it like out there?”  Vermilion spoke with his hands again and led them to the dropship. “Good, thank you. Everyone, load up!”

They returned to the drop ship and started to enter.  As Jesse was ushering Moon in, Vermilion plucked at his sleeve.  Vermilion was imposing, but Jeese was immune. He stood, arms crossed, as Jesse pulled out some bills.  He wasn’t as tall as Jesse, perhaps just as tall as Genji, but he held himself with the confidence of a man who knew what he was worth, and that was, apparently, fifty-thousand dollars for ten minutes of work.  “Thanks from coming out, put it on my tab.”

Vermilion sighed, cross his arms, and stared him down with red-orange eyes.  He then pinched his fingers together.

Jesse laughed at him.  “I can get you the last 15k tomorrow, cash, or transfer funds now, whichever you prefer.”  Vermilion made a simple gesture, tucking his thumb between his fingers and giving his hand a small shake, and Jesse nodded.  He pulled out his phone and fiddled with it, then Vermilion pulled his own phone out. Moon watched, trying to understand what Vermilion was saying.

Moon thought it odd a man who couldn’t talk with his voice would use a phone, then realised that he probably texted.  The two gunslingers tapped phones, and read the results. “Pleasure doin’ business with you, Milly.” Vermilion gave a short bow and turned to leave, and Moon pulled away from Morrison.

Morrison grabbed his shoulder as Moon spoke up.  “Excuse me, Mr. Vermilion?” Vermilion paused and turned, looking at him with emotionless eyes.  They weren’t really red, but a mix between red and orange, a color somehow familiar. “Zhūhóng.” Vermilion nodded at him.  “I know the color.”

The man nodded at him and returned to his own transportation, a hoverbike.  Like his clothes it was black with that deep red-orange color as trim, and it took off.

“You OK, kid?” Morrison asked, and Moon wrapped his arms around himself.  “What’s zoo hong?” As usual Morrison’s accent was off, but he was trying.  “Thank you?”

“Vermilion.  It’s the color.  I know it from somewhere.”  Morrison gave Moon’s arm a gentle tug and loaded him into the dropship.

“It’s the color of lacquerware,” Jesse said.  “Plates and stuff. Called cina-something or other.”  That sounded familiar, and once he sat down he pulled out his datapad to research it.

“Seatbelt,” Morrison reminded and Moon buckled up.

 

\-----

 

November 05, 2080, Early Tuesday Morning

“Hanzo?” Moon asked as he knocked on Hanzo’s door, and it slid open.  Moon was holding the ribbons from their shopping trips and Hanzo gestured him inside.  “You said you have a friend follow us. When we go shopping.”

“Yes, it was him.  The ribbons mark you as a person of interest.  It’s both a warning to others and a marker for him.”  Hanzo continued to heat and rotate the arrows through a small device to straighten them.  “He dyes them himself, he has a particular shade of vermilion he prefers. Something bothers you about this?”

“I’ve got his spine.  I’ve got the artificial spine of another person in my body.  I don’t know what to do. What if I turn into him? Can that happen?” he asked.

“You cannot turn into Vermilion.  You’re not fancy enough.”

“I can be fancy!”

“Moon, you’ll be fine.  Vermilion is a,” Hanzo said and thought for words, “interesting person.”

“Why can’t he talk?” Moon asked, and Hanzo handed him a cup of tea.  “Thank you.” He took a sip. “I love h ō jicha.”

Hanzo nodded at him.  “He was injured.” Moon knew that tone.  That tone meant that was all the information he was getting from Hanzo.  He drank his tea then tied his braids back with the ribbon. “Your roots are getting long, would you like to rebraid your streaks?  Maybe a new style?”

For the three months he was there Moon had left the three black steaks in their multiple braids, and he had to admit they were getting pretty shabby.  “I should.”

“We should take a trip, then.”  Hanzo examined his arrow shaft, satisfied, then picked up another.  “There is a place in England we can go, get your hair professionally washed to get the dyes out, and rebraided.”  Moon had to admit the white wasn’t so white after weeks of dying it with Genji.

“Can I go pastel this time?  Like, all of them?” he asked and took a longer drink.  “Why do you get away with making h ō jicha in your room?  It’s made with charcoal fire and Winston doesn’t even like candles in the rooms.”  He took another drink. “And it’s not green, but it’s a green tea. But I still like it.  It’s better than what Junkrat drinks. But I like the boba, too, but he makes it too sweet.  He says it’s half sweet, but I dunno. Think they’ll be back, soon? I’m sorry we left them. I thought we weren’t supposed to leave people.”

Hanzo gave a soft smile and Moon’s ramblings.  “I’m certain Junkrat and Roadhog will be fine. They are survivalists, and they are also rather nomadic.  They cannot be contained for long. Also, Winston knows I am the responsible one, so I may have my charcoal burner.”

“Roadhog said something about walking around, earlier,” Moon said and took another drink.

“Walkabout,” Hanzo corrected automatically.  “It is a wanderlust, a need to go places that can just see over the horizon.”

“And over the horizon is echos of you,” Moon said, singing the Rickenbacker line.  Hanzo smirked and continued to straighten his arrow. Once Moon started nodding off Hanzo guided him back to his own room and set him to bed.  He was surprisingly patient with children.   
  



	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> work no longer updated, please read chapter for explination

Please note this work will no longer be updated. Instead I am restructuring the work into Overwatch: Wraiths.  
The reason for this? After some introspection I realized derailed myself trying to make changes to a work in progress. The more changes I made the more I strayed from my original story, so I'm restarting.  
Plot points will be reintroduced, characters reworked, and hopefully I won't leave my outline again. Sorry for the mess!  
Papallion


End file.
